


Just Changed

by Silverdart



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bot!Sam, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Semi-Sentient Allspark, Sentient Matrix, Slash, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 05:11:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 49,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1155495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverdart/pseuds/Silverdart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Samuel James Witwicky was taken by the Decepticons months ago, but Bumblebee knows in his spark he is still alive. When a Decepticon the Autobots have never seen before infiltrates their base, who it is shocks everybody. It turns out that Sam isn't gone, just changed.<br/>Bot!SamxBumblebee Bayverse</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

His breathing was elevated, and he felt his chest heave as liquid fire ran through his veins. His heart pulsed, spreading the pain to his entire body. The cruel laughing of his oppressor resonated through his head, nearly overpowering the sound of his screams. As it became unbearable, he couldn't help but cry out in sheer agony...

Zosimo jolted from recharge, vents straining to cool his overheated systems. He scanned the dark room to find himself in his quarters, safe and sound. Or as safe he would ever be on the Nemesis. Air huffed out his vents in a sigh and he rubbed his crimson optics. This was the third time this deca-cycle that he'd had memory relapses in his sleep. Anymore and he'll be asleep on his own two feet!

Pedes, he corrected himself. Even after months with the 'Cons, he was still using human terminology. Frenzy liked to tease him about it and, therefore, so did Barricade. Cheeky glitches.

Zosimo knew he wouldn't be able to recharge again that night. He never could after his 'episodes'.

Swinging his legs off his berth, he smoothly stood and made a b-line for the wash racks. Crossing the large chamber, he was forced to step lightly as to not wake the other grunts recharging on nearby berths.

Not that Zosimo was a grunt.

No, he had made quite the reputation for himself after his performance in the arena. The thought of his latest brawl made Zosimo grin in delight at the memory of the fear in his opponent's optics. It had turned out very well, with him as the victor of course. All the newly turned had to prove themselves worthy for the Decepticon insignia by battling in a test of survival and skill. Mortal combat, no weapons allowed, just brute force and strategy on the fly. 'Or deception' Oh yes, deception was necessary for his talent. How else would he lure in his prey?

Zosimo activated the wash sensor and water cascaded around him, washing dried energon and system coolants off his chassis. As he scrubbed his black frame, he pondered his position among the ex- humans. They found him to be quite disturbing and blood thirsty, even by Decepticon standards. They didn't know how right they were...

After turning off the shower, he left the shared quarters and continued down a dark corridor towards the firing range. He loved to spend the day shooting his plasma cannon at targets or others. It didn't matter which. Practice was so much more enjoyable when your targets are moving and give you a straight forward reaction when impaled by your bullet. After all, there would be no second chances in the field against the Autobots or those annoying pathetic humans.

'Strange', he thought to himself,' I don't hear any gunfire.' Lord Megatron, Barricade, even that traitorous fool Starscream enjoyed practicing their aim. But more to blow off steam in his mighty master's case. Perhaps they had embarked on another raid. The Autobots have been fighting a lot more fiercely and with more deathly intent than usual. More and more officers had to be rushed to Hook in the med bay or face permanent deactivation.

The reason behind the ferocity was obviously the disappearance of Samuel James Witwicky. The 'bots were particularly close to that insect. Especially the yellow Camero scout Bumblebee. 

"What is this strange feeling in my spark. He isn't important. Although I must admit he is attractive...' His optics shuttered as he skidded his thoughts to a halt. Why was he thinking like a hormonal youngling? Probably excess ghost feelings from his past life. But of course, he wasn't an evolved primate anymore. He hadn't disappeared, not really. Just changed.

Autobot Base-Diego Garcia- 5 months after the disappearance of Samuel James Witwicky

Bumblebee writhed in a mental struggle against his darkened dreams

. "Sam! Sam, where are you? Can you hear me? Sam!" A light giggle caused him to whirl around only to meet the glare of two burning red optics. "What have you done to Sam!" 

The unknown cybertronian gave no response. "Answer me!" A light shuffle, but still no answer. "Answer me, Primus damn it!" Bumblebee's arm transformed into a plasma cannon only to be slammed onto the black chest plates of the Decepticon.

"Now, I'll say it again" he growled, rage evident in his static laced voice. "Where... Is... Sam?" The other smirked, revealing pearly white pointed denta from behind his lip plates, optics narrowing mockingly. The stature practically screamed 'I know something you don't know!' 

Before getting the opportunity to fire, the other leaned forward against his cannon and spoke in an eerily familiar voice into his left audio. "What are you talking about Bee?" It chuckled then hissed "I'm right here." 

Bumblebee's sky blue optics widened at the sudden searing pain in his abdomen. Looking down, his face contorted in horror to see his life blood flowing over a red energon blade. Looking to his killer again he was terrified to see the black cybertronian had disappeared. In his place was an enlarged human he knew well, glancing hungrily at the processed energon coating his weapon. Their eyes locked and Bumblebee saw unrestrained bloodlust in the other's eyes, a monster. But it couldn't be. Just couldn't. He strained "Sam?"

Bumblebee awoke with a high pitched shriek, one likely to rouse the entire base and carry on for miles. Vents and air pumps worked on maximum as he tried to calm his frantic panting. He tilted his helm forward, clear lubricant building in his optic lenses. 'What a horrible nightmare'. The door to his quarters pinged, indicating the presence of another on the other side. Bee's frame straightened, quickly wiping away the 'tears' streaking down his cheeks. His radio broadcasted the voice of a woman. "Who is it?"

"Bumblebee? It's Optimus. May I come in?" Optimus Prime's voice was worried and concerned, as it should be. He had been practically a father to Bee since younglinghood, in relationship if not blood. Chirping an affirmative, Bumblebee slumped in sadness as the door slid open and Optimus walked in. Immediately seeing his distressed condition, Optimus went towards Bee's berth and wrapped his arms around Bumblebee's quivering shoulders.

"What's wrong Bumblebee? Did you have a bad flux again?" Optimus was getting worried at this point. Nightmares were rare but did happen among his people. Only after great emotional pain had occurred in someone's life, like the death of a bondmate could cause the simulations during recharge. 'Or the death of a great friend' He thought.

Nodding a yes, the car radio in Bumblebee's chest gave out static for a moment then portrayed the voice of a young boy crying "It was terrible!" Bumblebee's shoulders loosened in defeat. "Maybe if he was... still here... it wouldn't feel so bad!" The put together words were filled with sorrow and pain. Optimus rubbed Bee's arm in comfort.

Optimus felt sympathy for his 'son'. He knew how much it hurt to lose someone close. Just look at he and Megatron before the uprising, as close as brothers. Megatron's betrayal had struck Optimus so deep that he couldn't trust another for a long, long time after. Sighing, Prime suggested "Why don't you go and see Ratchet. He could give you something to help you recharge, or at least get you into stasis. This lack of rest isn't good for your systems, you know." Bumblebee nodded again and allowed Optimus to guide him towards the door. Before leaving the room, he remembered the last part of his nightmare. The black transformer was replaced with Sam, his Sam. What could this mean? What had happened to his close friend, his... 'My maybe more...'


	2. Chapter 2

The battle raged around him, a deadly dance where one false step would end in your own destruction. He reveled in every stroke of his sword, the heat of every blast of his smoking fusion cannon. This was life now and Megatron wouldn't have it any other way.

"Decepticons! Retreat!" he bellowed to his soldiers. Turning smugly to his rival he added "We have what we came for." Transformation cogs whirred as he jumped and flipped into his Cybertronian jet alternative mode. Engine and thrusters surged as Megatron took to the air, followed closely by Starscream and Astrotrain.

:How many cubes did we gather this time, Astrotrain?: He asked over a comm.-link, the air passing by their frames creating a loud and constant roar too loud for his query to be picked up by neighbouring audios.

:We managed to gather three hundred cubes of energon from the Autobot base, my lord: Starscream cut in, his irritating voice practically dripping with disdain. :Although my plan would have gained us more, I must admit: Megatron growled menacingly and swerved into Starscream's flight path, earning a disgruntled shriek from the latter as he struggled to prevent colliding with his larger, heavier commander.

: Do not test me Starscream! Or I'll have your pathetic carapace shot out of the sky! : Megatron received grumbling static over their link but inwardly smirked when Starscream backed off in submission... for now.

As they rocketed back to their hidden base on this backwater planet, he reflected upon the considerable progress he and his faction have made in their conquest over the Autobots and their weak minded pets.

Humans are very weak willed, as his new experiments had shown him. Very easy to manipulate, corruptible. His mind drifted towards the recording of a significant event five months ago and he replayed the recollection in vivid detail to himself. Barricade had led out perhaps the most noteworthy of his numerous psychological blows to the Autobots yet. Or more specifically, to his brother Optimus Prime. No doubt the guilt was eating him alive. How much more it would hurt when Prime realised that the new Allspark was in his grasp, loyal to him and only him.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

5 Months ago-Tranquility-Night of Samuel James Witwicky's Reported Disappearance 

Video and Audio Recording Of the Capture of Samuel James Witwicky-

Time-11:47 Post Meridian Local Time 

Samuel James Witwicky walked down the lamp lit street, running shoes padding softly on the concrete road. He occasionally glanced around, as if suspecting someone to be stalking him. Increasing his pace, he sped-walk further down the road, his house only a few blocks away where his parents awaited his return from Mikaela's place. Bumblebee, his guardian and best friend, had left on a recon mission in Russia to track down and investigate likely Decepticon activity. 

They should have never left such a fragile and young life so open to foul play like they did that night. Really, Optimus should know better. A distant rumble caught the young savior's attention and a chill slid down the teenager's spine, seeping into his veins and giving him an utterly freighting sensation. He slowly turned, his mind denying the unfriendly yet familiar Ford Mustang Saleen police vehicle idling under a lamp post's glare.

The origin of the engine rumble, the words "To Punish And Enslave" were clearly visible on its side, as was the emblem that branded his deepest fears. He tried to flee, they always did, but his struggles to escape were in vain. Nobody, Autobot or human could run from Barricade for long. Tires squealed on asphalt and the disguised hunter speed toward his prey, like a cat to a mouse.

'Bring the fleshling alive. We need his body and mind intact for our test to succeed. Do not fail me, Barricade.' His master's orders were clear and a direct threat to the scout. He would be praised when he completed his mission, and punished should he fail. 

Barricade felt no desire to follow in Starscream's footsteps and drew closer to his intended target. Shooting forward a grapple from his grill, the human tripped when the hook latched itself onto his ankle, piercing his muscles and skin. Sam's skull impacted with the black road and the terrified boy fell into the dark of unconsciousness. 

The human captured and detained, Barricade entered the Decepticon base with his helm held high and self confidence filling to the brim as he entered the command center. Monitors flickered around him and the room was a dull grey which held a shadow to each crack and corner. Crimson optics swung to his position as did a dull pair of scarlet.

A dented and energon covered Starscream lay on the stained floor, his life blood pooling around gashes in his wings. He let out a particularly desperate whimper as Megatron applied pressure to a nasty looking gash, as if to cement a point to the seeker. Removing his pede from his captive's back strut, Megatron focused his attention on his returned hunter. "A success I assume. You would not have retuned otherwise or you would end up like this idiot before you." 

"Yes my lord. The capture of the Allspark is complete. Experiments may now proceed accordingly." A malicious smile broke over his master's face. "Well done, Barricade. Commence project Creation. It's time we turned the tides in this war.'

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Present Time-Decepticon Base-Combat Arena

Crash!

Another drone was sent flying, slamming into a nearby wall from the force of Zosimo's punch. The black mech stood panting in the arena's center, computerized drones littering the ground, their offline forms steadily leaking oil onto the sand-covered floor.

He wiped fresh oil from his face in disgust. It didn't taste nearly as good as he thought it would. Nothing like the warm, energy filled energon in the wires of an approaching scout. 'Still not as good as his though.' Having missed his morning energon rationing, Zosimo struggled under the violent urge to lunge and...

"Zosimo," The low ranked blue mech didn't know how close to death he was. 'Just need to lean forward and...' 

"Agent Frenzy has asked me to locate you and requested that you meet him in Soundwave's quarters in a few cycles. Is this acceptable sir?" Such an innocent newly turned. Zosimo knew that this mech's energon was fresh and untainted by the stress of war.

The thought made him open his mouth and groan at the thought of this mech's taste. Would it be sweet or tangy? Would it have an odd spice to it and leave a delightful aftertaste on his glossa? The possibilities almost pushed him over the edge, his clawed fingers clenching into tight fists and his posture tensing.

"-ir? Sir? Sir?" The calls broke Zosimo from his craving reserve, making him shake his helm to clear away the unwanted beg for the bot in front of him. "Sir are you well? Should I report to Hook?" The delectable mech before him wasn't making controlling his urges any easier. 'Out with it already! Before I do something I will regret!' Zosimo wanted to scream at him to leave him alone, to get away! Seemingly seeing the discomfort from his superior, the unknown Decepticon repeated in a wavering voice "Agent Frenzy requests your presence in a few cycles."

Once the mech left the arena he finally allowed his screaming air pumps to draw in surrounding oxygen. He panted heavily to cool his overheating systems. 'That was too close. I almost broke there. What if that was a femme who walked in?' If the Cybertronian who entered was a femme instead of the mech, Zosimo was positive he wouldn't have been able to control himself. There was something about their fertility that drew him in, like a moth to the warming light. He already struggled around bot's he wasn't in frequent contact with. These desires were getting worse and Zosimo didn't know how long he could hold out. And in the end... would he want to?

Frenzy had a few choice words he could tell you right now about his newfound friend. Fragger. Glitch. Scrap head. Virus.

Although rough words to any other bot, these were Frenzy's terms of endearment for Zosimo. They truly were friends and pranksters in arms. The fact that the mech's ex-mate had chopped off his head didn't split them apart. On the contrary, they frequently joked about it in the short time they had known each other. And boy, did that psycho have a hell of a sense of humor.

Their latest practical joke ended with Starscream painted neon pink with glitter sparkling on his armour and the words "KICK ME" on his aft. An invitation many of the officers took, leaving noticeable pede shaped dents in their wake. Zosimo had handled repainting and glittering the second in command while frenzy printed the words. Zosimo always handled the jobs that required patience and silence. Immediately after meeting him, Frenzy noticed his systems and pede steps ran near silent, allowing him to sneak unknowingly on others. It was through this quirk that they teamed up and got to know each other.

So there he was, leaning against the door of the quarters he shared with his carrier and siblings, arms crossed waiting for his glitched companion to show up. Checking his internal chronometer he sighed. Zosimo should have shown up cycles ago! He was always very on time with dates and possessed the most accurate chronometer of the entire army. Just as he turned to enter his room and wait there, quiet pede steps reached his sensitive audios.' Speaking of Unicron, here he comes.' 

Turning to great him Frenzy's words stalled in his vocalize when he say Zosimo's facial expression. Not wanting to talk in the hallway for eavesdropping, black-mail searching audios, Frenzy ushered him inside his shared quarters. His siblings Rumble, Ravage 2.0 and Laserbeak were out making their own mischief and Soundwave was floating in the Earth's orbit, so they were guaranteed to be left alone for the time being.

"What's going on Zosimo? What happened?" Frenzy was concerned, his friend had been behaving strangely since his latest arena brawl and the sudden change was beginning to worry him.

Zosimo's optics locked with his and Frenzy's energon flushed cold in his wires. The carnal hunger in the other's eyes was a terrible sight and Frenzy backed up a little, frame on the defensive should his companion's mental barriers break. Their cycle long stare held firm until the blood lust started to leave Zosimo's gaze. Finally sighing, Zosimo broke their two way stare off and plunked himself on Soundwave's berth, holding his helm in his oil marked claws.

The silence was uncomfortable between the two until Zosimo's cool voice stated "I don't think I can hold back much longer Frenz."

Frenzy jumped onto the berth and sat beside the larger black mech and replied carefully, not wanting to set the other off. "Why don't you go have a chat with Shockwave? I bet he knows how to help! After all, he helped me with my stutter glitch! I'm sure 'e knows how to fix things."

"This isn't something you can just cure Frenzy." He said wearily "It's a part of me and if I can't get my desires under control... I'll snap." His shoulders slumped at the thought of his urges controlling his body, unable to resist the delicious scent residing in every bot's chassis and the pulsing sparks beneath.

"Well... why don't you-" The beeping of a comm.-link request cut Frenzy off. Pressing a claw to his audio fins, Zosimo activated his comm.-link with a grumble. :Zosimo here.:

:Zosimo. This is Lord Megatron, report to the command center immediately. I have your first assignment ready here for you. Be here in a few cycles.: Grimacing to Frenzy's questioning face, Zosimo replied. :Right away Sir. Zosimo out.: 

:Megatron out:

Shutting off his comm., Zosimo sent an apologizing glance to Frenzy before sighing again and hauling himself to his pedes. Putting on an exaggerated smile he said his farewells to Frenzy before stepping out into the hallway once more and head towards the command center, anxious for his first solo assignment.


	3. Chapter 3

Mikaela Banes had her complete and utter focus on finishing the infuriating paintjob on the black chopper motorcycle in front of her, face plastered with a scowl. What self respecting cyclist would cruise down the street on a motorcycle sporting a butterfly on it? Honestly, some of the paint orders to her father's shop were so ridiculous and strange that she nearly refused to design them.

'At least I tried to make it look semi-cool.' The red butterfly's wings started as normal on the front wheel cover then licked into flames along the side plates.

She was just putting the finishing details on the symmetrical wings when her phone vibrated from its place in her back pocket. She sighed but grunted as she got up from her kneeling position on the concrete ground. Flipping it open she greeted the caller with a "What is it? I'm busy." She didn't take any notice to her rude tone, as she had only given her cell number to close friends, her dad and the Autobots.

"Hello Mikaela." Optimus Primes voice portrayed from the phone's inner speakers. "How are you today?" She quickly dropped her offensive tone, knowing that it wasn't the service providers. Today's world was too full of irritating tele-marketers, and a lot were moving forward to cell phone advertising. 'Oh. Hey Optimus, I'm doing good. How 'bout you?"

"I am well. Mikaela I have a favour to ask of you. It's about Bumblebee and his... condition." Mikaela's stomach dropped to her feet at the reply. Although he was furious at her betrayal in hr and Sam's relationship, she and Bee had clung together after the incident but had since then drifted apart in the aftermath of Sam's 'disappearance'.

'Kidnapped more like it.' It was no secret that the entire Autobot base knew the Decepticons had something to do with her ex-boyfriend's disappearance, they were most likely responsible.

"What's wrong with Bee? Has he been having nightmares again?" They had started not long after Sam was ripped from their lives, the blow striking Bumblebee much harder than herself. She had found out not too long ago about his feelings for his best friend. And truthfully, she couldn't feel any spite towards the yellow guardian.

She remembered the last time she had seen her 'boy friend'. They hadn't been acting like a couple since defeating the Fallen in Egypt. He had grown taller, stronger, faster and started behaving strangely. Cold and short tempered, as if holding a grudge to something or someone. She looked back and remembered their last conversation.

The male teenager's hazel eyes narrowed and a frown broke the blank expression previously on his face. "What I do in my free time has nothing to do with you 'kaela. Just because we're together doesn't mean you need to be breathing down my neck every second of every day. I can take care of myself."

Her blue eyes hardened to match his glare. "Well I wouldn't have to worry so much if you just talked to me! You're so closed off from everyone. I don't know what's going on! What's wrong with you!" He growled, actually growledat her, a deep, vibrating noise originating from the deepest vocal cords in his throat. "Don't act like you care about me or my feelings."

She faltered a little when a flash of fury passed over his fierce look, not liking the animosity erupting in his gaze. "I do care! Why wouldn't I care about you? If I didn't, then our relationship would just be a laughable joke!" He froze with a look of shock. Suddenly his body tensed and a truly ugly, fierce snarl took over his face. "Is that what you've been doing? Laughing at me, at my pain? Is this all some elaborate cruel joke you've been chuckling about with your 'new friend' Leo?"

She leaned back, confused. "And what's that supposed to mean?" He snorted turning from her. "You know what I'm talking about... I caught you two at school, kissing in that fragging janitor's closet. You betrayed me." She back peddled in shock at the verbal stab, and whispered "How do you know about that?"

When he spun around to face her that was the first time she felt it. The heart ripping guilt, making her feel nauseous and three inches tall. "How could I not know, you two were loud enough. How could you do that to me, Mikaela? How could you be so heartless...?" His whisper matched hers from moments before, eyes watering with the most forlorn expression imaginable.

He turned again and slowly walked away from their position in front of her house. She felt a rush of anger at his accusation and shouted out to his retreating form " At lease I don't act like an emotionless organic machine like you!" She gasped in fright and dull pain as her body was slammed into the wooden door of her garage, which rattled from the sudden impact.

Through her pain she heard furious clicking, shrieking and warbles in her ringing ears. Sam's mouth moves as a blur as he slurred out the unknown yet familiar language of their robot friends. She didn't know what scared her more, his violence, tone or the fact that his eyes were glowing a bright red. Decepticon red.

When the ear splitting vocalizations died down he released her and stormed off into the night. For an hour there she remained, sitting against the garage door mind racing as she tried to comprehend what had just happened. Sam had been reported missing the following morning, and all she could do was lie in bed and cry her heart out.

Coming back to the present, she remembered that Optimus was still waiting for a reply. "Sure Optimus, I'll come talk to him. Does seven thirty sound okay? I'll tell dad that I'm spending the night over there."

"Yes, that sounds acceptable. I am sure Ironhide would be alright with driving you here. He hasn't been out lately and I fear he is becoming a bit stir-crazy cooped up on base. He'll be there at six. Is this acceptable?"

"Sure Optimus. Hey, tell everyone hi for me okay? I'll see you later. Bye"

"Good bye Mikaela."

Zosimo entered the command center, eager to get rolling on his first mission. Megatron sat on his throne on a raised platform in the center of the room, blinking monitors creating flickering reflections off his gun metal grey armour. Spotting Zosimo kneeled to the floor; he grinned and said in his deep voice. "Ahhhh. Zosimo, just the Decepticon I wanted to see. Rise." Zosimo did so and replied, "Sire, you requested to see me?"

"Yes, I have a special task for you. One that suits you considerable... talents." He handed Zosimo a data pad which had been laying on the throne's armrest. "On this data pad are the specifics for your mission. I expect you to meet Astrotrain on the launch pad in a klik prepared for this assignment."

Realising that was as much information as he would get, Zosimo bowed low and headed for the door. "Oh, and Zosimo," He froze and looked to his master. "Don't neglect your nutritional needs. I can see the hunger in your optics. You can't hide it forever, so you may as well accept it and use your gift to your advantage." In a warning filled voice he ordered. "Do not let your flaws cloud your judgement. I trust you to complete your task with precision; you'd do best to meet my expectations." Megatron dismissed him with a wave of his hand and Zosimo bowed yet again before vacating the room.

Zosimo rushed to his quarters to pick up a few things before leaving, scanning the mission outline along the way.

Mission Encrypt

Objective: Gather information from Autobot base data bases. Locate data files marked "Energon Harvest" and any other vital files. Offline any standing in your way and place enclosed virus into central computer coding. Escape the base uncaptured and unharmed. Rendezvous with Astrotrain at location: 5 miles north of human residence Tranquility. Deliver data to Command Center upon return.

Astrotrain ETA- 8 kliks after drop off

Nodding to himself, Zosimo grabbed his favourite plasma guns from where they rested on his berth side table and placed them in his subspace. He had gathered dust and ash grenades and was placing them in holders around his torso when the door to his quarters suddenly swished open. Startled he whirled around, talons bared to defend himself from any punk who wanted to pick a fight. "Hey! Watch where you're pointing those things, slag head!"

He loosened his stance and returned to gathering his equipment. It was just Frenzy. "So, you headin' out? About time! You'll like field work I think. Sneaking about is right up your alley, as the humans say!"

Zosimo scoffed in amusement. "Like you don't follow mechs in the corridors after curfew. I know you Frenz. It's your gift to gather gossip and blackmail from the crew."

Frenzy hummed. "Touché. So, what did Lord Megatron want? Did you get your first mission!" He was excited for his friend now. A 'Cons first mission was always his most enjoyable. 'Unless you get caught, of course.' He remembered his humiliating first solo recon mission. Rumble still would let him live it down.

"Yes, as a matter of fact I did. Information gathering from the data bases of the Autobot base. I'm to meet Astrotrain on the launch pad in ten cycles, so I need to hurry!"

Frenzy's mouth dropped open. "That's SO unfair! My first mission was to check on Screamer after he crashed into a building! I think you're Megatron's new favourite or something. He always lets you do stuff others can't! This is so rigged, I'm tellin' ya." He mumbled angrily.

He blinked in surprise realizing he was alone standing in the quarters with Zosimo's frame running down the hallway. "Yeah yeah. That's nice Frenzy. I have to go! I'll see you when I get back!" He yelled urgently, most likely going to arrive to an impatient Astrotrain ten cycles late.

Shaking his head while chuckling, Frenzy watched until his prankster in arms disappeared around a corner. He then headed in the other direction, bent on setting up multiple paint ball guns to fire at the triple changer Blitzwing. This time, he'll blame it on the apparently infamous 'Gremlins'.

Twelve Kliks Later- Location 15 miles south of Autobot base

Astrotrain's turbo engines roared as he opened his cargo bay door, readying for the drop off. Zosimo rested in his alt mode, having recharged enroute to store energy. :You ready Zosimo?: Astrotrain asked over comm. link, wind too loud as it bounced off his cargo bay hull. :Ready sir.:

:Drop on my mark. Three, Two, One, Mark: Zosimo's tires screeched on the metal floor and he shot forward, down the ramp and plummeted towards the Earth's surface. He let himself freefall for a few seconds before transforming into his bipedal mode. He slammed into the ground in a crouch to absorb the speed of his fall, Astrotrain's low altitude allowing for a short descend from the air.

The desert area around him was a flat and open sand pressing into his pedes, irritating the wires and getting stuck between plating. He glanced back and saw Astrotrain's receding tail lights fade into the pitch blackness of night. :Eight kliks Zosimo. Your time starts now.:

Taking the hint, Zosimo transformed into his alt mode. In his place was a pitch black Porche Panamara Stingray GTR, headlights glaring in the direction of the 'secret' Autobot base. Shifting into first gear, Zosimo shot off north, determined to be successful in his first of many black ops missions.

A black Topkick approached the electric sentry fence of the base, the female human and her backpack sitting in his interior. When the gates rolled open, he advanced forward towards the hanger labelled with a large "4". Coming to a halt, the truck's door open on its own accord and the female human climbed out onto the black asphalt. Slamming the door closed, she patted the truck's hood and said "Thanks again for driving Ironhide."

The radio let out a rough Texas accent. "No problem Mikaela. Bumblebee and Optimus should be waiting in Hatchet's lair." Mikaela laughed at the term "Hatchet's lair." After being force examined by the resident CMO after Egypt it was clear where he'd earned the nickname. Ratchet's bedside manner was legendary among the cybertronians, so was his tendency to throw wrenches as those who were stupid enough to piss him off. She walked off in the direction off the med bay, stopping only to greet two men dresses in military camouflage. "Hey Will, Epps."

"Hey Mikaela. What brings you here?" William Lennox queried. "Bumblebee's been having..."

"Nightmares. Yeah, we know. He woke the whole base last night screeching." Cut in Robert Epps. "We think it's getting worse." He glanced to Will and the two bid there farewells before heading in the direction she came from.

Mikaela frowned, concern building for her hurting friend. She hastily made her way to the medical bay. Using the human sized metal door, she entered the berth and equipment filled orange med bay, immediately heading for the section set aside for Autobots. She spotted the lime green medical Hummer and called out "Hey Ratchet!"

The bot jumped and turned to Mikaela in the floor. Frowning, he grunted out "Don't surprise me like that! You'll end up giving me a spark attack!" Regardless, he crouched down and offered a servo to Mikaela, which she promptly climbed upon. He rose and placed her beside a sitting Bumblebee, who warbled a cheerful greeting. "Hey Bee. How're you doing, big guy?"

He whined and his radio broadcasted the voice of a young child. "But Mom! I can't sleep!" His frame sulked and Mikaela stroked his thigh comfortingly. "I know how you feel Bee." She said sadly. "I miss him too." Sensing the need for a private, spark to heart conversation between the two, Ratchet said he needed to go fill reports and to "get the slag out of his medbay" as soon as they were done, handing Bumblebee energon infused with sedative to help his recharging. Little did he know that the sight greeting him when he returned, blissfully unaware the scene would probably mentally scar him for life.

Zosimo backtracked, crawling backwards and trying another direction in the cramped main ventilation shaft that was barely large enough for him to worm around in. 'If Soundwave managed to find the base, would it have killed him to give him a map?' He growled to himself, realising that this was actually the easiest part of his objective.

The hard part so far was getting in past the electric fence and energon detectors unnoticed. That was where he let one of his more useful talents take over. By unknowingly observing and scanning the schematics for the alt mode of the front liner Sideswipe, he had been able to take the Autobot's spark signature and appearance as his own. The sentry never suspected a thing. Idiot human.

So there he was, struggling to find the base's central computers that held the key to his operation. He was about to turn back when a powerful scent bombarded his sensors. He groaned, systems heating at the absolutely delicious scent coming from a nearby vent cover. Unable to control himself as Megatron had ordered he scrambled over to the cover to peer into the orange med bay below. That's when he saw the mech of his memories.

The Chevrolet Camaro.

Bumblebee.

'My succulent Bumblebee.'

The carnal hunger inside him burst forward in a single wave, breaking the barriers he worked so hard to build. His talons ripping the cover off with abnormal strength, and he launched himself into the medbay to land into a predatory yet graceful stance, optic's locked on his two victims with the intent to sate his powerful desire.

Hearing the screech of metal on metal Bumblebee's arm transformed into a plasma cannon through instinct, the need to protect Mikaela, and he was glad he did. Poised forward in a slight crouch, sharp claws and shark like pointed dents bared, the figure hissed like an infuriated pit spawn. The details on the mystery mech's chassis and arms were sharp and ragged in spikes. His helm sported audio fins which were no unlike those of the revived Autobot TIC Jazz but with a helm crest that was definitely more aggressive than the former. But the most intriguing of the jet black mech's features were his crimson optics.

When they locked, Bumblebee's spark froze and icy fear spread through his wires. The animosity and unrestrained bloodlust in those optics was terrifying, and Bumblebee immediately know his attacker. His dream killer... His dream Sam.


	4. Chapter 4

The gentle wind kicked up minute quantities of dust and sand across the barren and empty wasteland. Brush and the rare tree stood in silence, the only noise for miles approaching in a deep rumble. The powerful rev of an engine was a scraggly bush's only warning before black rubber tires crushed it to the ground. The silver Chevrolet Corvette grumbled, feeling the serrated edges of the resident plant life bite into his tires, as if threatening to rupture them and cause a painful, stinging flat. It rose on its shocks, keeping as far from the ground as possible. It sunk in relief as a wire barrier glint in the horizon, spanning kilometers both east and west.

Sideswipe approached the sentry gates as normal, check in with the human guard and be on his merry way. This was obviously an abnormal day, for he taxied ten meters in only to jump in shock and confusion as a pair of charged cannons and primitive, but deadly rifles set their aim directly on his prone and vulnerable hood. His circuits heated with annoyance and a hint of angered puzzlement. "Hey! What's the big idea?" a very peeved growl sounded through the dash board speakers.

"Silence, Deceptiscum." Ironhide's rough tone drawing Sideswipes gaze, through his headlights to the Weapon Specialist's face and narrowed optic lenses. Sideswipe transformed in bewilderment with his mouth open and optics wide. What the slag! What crawled into his engine and died? Clenching his servos tightly, he ground out through ground denta, "What the frag are you talking about Ironhide! It's me! You know, Sideswipe!"

Ironhide snorted." Nice try Decepticon punk, But you don't fool me. The real Sideswipe returned a while ago, reports and all. He threw his servos into the air, frame shaking with restrained fury. How dare he accuse him of betrayal! "I ain't no Decepticon, slag head! And when, pray tell, have I ever filled out a report?" Realization crossed Ironhide's, finally taking in the mech before him, but he didn't power down his cannons, neither did the humans lower their loaded guns.

"You can't be Sideswipe." He said, now thoroughly lost. "He reported in almost two kliks ago." Sideswipe tapped his pede impatiently and grunted "He couldn't have because I'M STANDING RIGHT HERE!" 'Primus, could they hurry this up already!' He was hungry and tired fraggit! He needed to go clean the organic material from his undercarriage before it stained! His processor fritzed to a halt and he reflected in dismay,' I'm turning into Sunny!' He lowered his arms and sighed in defeat. "It's really me Ironhide, I swear! Whoever that other guy was must have been someone..." He froze, and his optics widened in realization. "It must have been a Decepticon! Quick, we gotta find him before he gets to the main computer!"

Ironhide rose his cannon again suspiciously and pointed it to Sideswipe's spark chamber. "Prove it." Sideswipe hesitated, befuddled with the sudden order. "Prove yer Sides, tell me somethin' only an Autobot would know." He thought for a moment then pulled a grin that would out match a Cheshire cat on April Fool's day.

"Well..." He began, "A few vorns ago, Sunny and I managed to glue you to your berth painted neon pink." Ironhide's optics widened in embarrassment and the humans looked up at him only to start chuckling at the comical look on his face plates. "Then there was the time we rigged your cannon to backfire glitter all over chassis, the time we locked you in the brig with Starscream screeching in your audios while wearing our equivalent of a straightjacket..."

Ironhide slumped horrified as the humans rolled laughing on the ground, tears streaking down their cheeks at his unfortunate encounters with the twins antics. He got a really bad feeling when he saw a new light gleaming in Sideswipes optics. "Oh yeah! Then there was that party when we spiked your energon and you woke up the next morning with-"

"Alright alright, that's enough! Yer Sideswipe alright!" That had bordered on way too much information for Ironhide's liking. As the human soldiers sobered up the sentry human voiced his misunderstanding. "But if you're out here, who did I send in earlier?" They all stopped and a serious look passed over them all. "C'mon Sides! We got a 'Con to hunt down." Without transforming, they ran to the hangers as the sentry's hand slammed on a red emergency button just inside the booth, where visitor traffic recording took place. Grabbing the black microphone next to it, he called in a shaky voice" Code red! Code red! Security breach! This is not a drill I repeat, NOT A DRILL." Slowly returning the microphone to its original position, he could help but feel it was his fault, and that it may have been too late.

Bumblebee's world was focused on the being before him, on the way the crimson optics eyed his neck cables with desire. He could vaguely pick up the calls of the female human protected in his servos, queries of what was wrong and orders to flee. He said nothing and slowly sidestepped to the berth he lay previously on, where he set the protesting organic. Mikaela knew better than to stay in the open, she ducked behind a spark monitor and watched in terror as the scene unfolded.

Those blood red fire pits tracked his shifting position like a predator to its inferior prey. Bumblebee sure felt like prey the way those optics burned through his chassis, as if piercing his very spark. Backing away from the berth, he slowly crossed to the other wall of the medbay and raised his servos in defense, appearing cam yet his emotions were like a whirlwind inside his spark. Anything could set off the monstrosity in front of him. Anything could trigger the inevitable rush of electrons in the others wires. He had what were probably plasma grenades holstered to a belt like object wrapping diagonally over his shoulder. Bumblebee didn't want one of those to blow in the med bay, lest Mikaela be harmed in the blast. Although the mech most likely had other weapons in subspace, he didn't seem to be in any hurry to use them.

Despite the obvious shake of his frame, Bumblebee's voice was unwavering and calming, as if trying to sooth a ferocious beast. His real voice, the one Ratchet had almost completed repairs to held out long enough for him to form his next sentence. "What do you want Decepticon? Did you come for information or just a friendly visit?"

The mysterious mech crouched twenty meters away was rigid and spiked out on all angles. To Bumblebee, he was staring into the eyes of his nightmares come true. To his already fragile mind, the other was hope, the chance that his dreams may be true. However terrible they may be. To Bee, this mech was the key to finding his human. To discover what their enemies did to his Sam. Before he could take the opportunity to solve the enigma before him, the dream killer's patience dissipated. With a shriek fitting of a pit spawn, the other lunged talons poised, prepared to end his life.

Zosimo's conscience had left the building, as the humans say. His surroundings were sharp and pristine, the advantage his other side brings. He could hear the pulse of a spark and beat of an organic heart. He could smell the musk of processed energon flowing through the other's neck cables. Oh, how he wished he could just turn, jump back into the vents and complete his mission. But the moment the scout's unique (irresistible) scent reached his sensors, he became a prisoner in his own body, prone to its sick desires.

He could see that Bumblebee was trying to calm him but the dark had taken over. His warped mind saw his efforts as a mock, a taunt that only made the other more delectable. Giving one last try to reign in his sanity, Zosimo felt the dark's presence waiver and begin to loosen its hold. But when Bumblebee's silky voice questioned his purpose there, he lost control. His memories coupled with the scout's sinuous, tempting life blood was too much for him to bear.

Zosimo's back strut was like a piston as he let out a menacing cry and launched himself forward. His target, the neck of the, no, his Autobot. A shrill scream reached his audios from the female, yet he paid it no heed, dismissing it as fear. His yellow striped meal swiftly darted left, but Zosimo's clouded and instinct run mind reacted faster. They were both sent tumbling to the floor, Bumblebee crying in pain as his sensitive door wings collided with the tiles. He felt a wire being tweaked on his arm and found his plasma cannon disarmed and disabled. Bee struggled from his defenseless, pinned position whilst the other tried to restrain Bumblebee's flailing limbs.

Finally succeeding in subduing his victim, he stared in lust at the exposed cables from his position straddling the Camaro's thighs . But a simple feeding was out of the question. His prey was far too involved with his life to not gain a pleasant sight from Zosimo. A ringing suddenly filled the med bay and a human announced a code red. Bumblebee froze at the sound and swivelled his wide fearful optics towards his captor. Zosimo growled like a crazed animal but pulled an insane grin, observing his prisoner in a near affectionate manner. Zosimo leaned in and gave Bee's neck a mockingly tender lick. Bumblebee shuddered in disgust, all thoughts of the mech being Sam flying out the window. His servos stroked Bumblebee's sides and chest plates, causing the unfortunate Autobot to shiver.

The black Decepticon continued his twisted treatment like a lover would, further making Bumblebee whimper, make him pray this wasn't happening. The assaulter started to nibble on his cables and despite his utter emotional agony, Bumblebee's body betrayed him and started to heat up. The two could hear quick foot falls approaching and Zosimo paused his actions. A growl vibrated through his chassis and spread to the mech pressed down below him. The female insect! She must have alerted someone, or have done something. But the annoying ringing he had pushed aside told him otherwise. He had been discovered.

To Bumblebee's terror, Zosimo sped up and his servos continually drifted downward. His aroused bliss was pierced by the slide of a door and the shocked gasp of the lime medic. He slowly lifted his helm optics narrowed in dangerous slits. He turned to Ratchet's tensed frame and ran his glossa over his wet lips. Bumblebee's eyes lit in relief and portrayed a silent beg for help. When nobody moved for a cycle, Bumblebee thought Ratchet had had a spark attack.

Their shared silence was broken when Zosimo swiftly moved into a crouch, poised to strike the newcomer who had dared to disturb his administrations. One of the many med bay doors shattered and a silver blur tackled the raging black mech to the wall. The two proceeded into a power struggle, one protecting their downed comrade and the other determined to regain the salvation to his desires.

"Ironhide! Ratchet! I could use some help over here!" Sideswipe called, the black Stingray's size and overwhelming speed getting the better of him. The Weapons specialist aimed a plasma rifle at the two, who stopped dead with Sideswipe's fist in the air, ready to deliver a hard jab. "Ironhide! What are you DOING! Don't aim at me!"The distracted pair failed to notice Ratchet approaching and Sideswipe jumped as his opponent slumped forward forcing him to support the Deception's dead weight.

Ratchet stood off to the side, an empty syringe clasped firmly in his hand. The three relaxed until a sob sounded from behind a spark monitor. Ironhide readied his gun, but dropped it just as fast as Mikaela revealed herself. Tears streaked down her pale cheeks and she sprinted to the end of the medical berth, looking down to her stasis locked friend.

"Ratchet!" She cried. "Help him! Please! I could stop him. I couldn't-"She broke down and slid to her knees on the berth surface. Ratchet knelled down and scanned Bumblebee's vital readings. Grunting softly, he picked up Bee and laid him on an empty berth, his gaze full of pity and lingering disbelief. He sighed turning to the others. "He's fine. Just in stasis, he must have been quite shaken." Mikaela glanced up in relief but hardened her gaze to a hateful glare as her eyes drifted to the form of Bee's assaulter. She clenched her teeth and her face took on a furious look. "That scumbag..." she growled. "That Decepticon tried to rape Bee."

He grunted at the sharp pain throbbing through his processor , the sharp ache drawing his consciousness back into reality. 'Was there a party last night?' His splitting headache justified the possibility that he was experiencing a killer hangover. His optics flickered before powering up completely, allowing him a view of his environment. A purple glow to his right drew his attention from the stained ground to the bars of his new home. The sight and sound of humming plasma bars jolted Zosimo into awareness. He struggled to sit up and could feel cold metal encircling his wrists. 'Stasis cuffs?'Something was definitely wrong here.

He yanked and pulled at his restraints for what felt like kliks but eventually he knew his efforts were in vain. 'What am I doing here anyway!' His hazy processor failed to recall the events of kliks earlier at first but slowly the truth came to light and Zosimo could believe what he had almost done to Bumblebee. To his Bumblebee. Rape was a heavy crime on Cybertron punishable with life imprisonment in solitary confinement. For him to nearly commit such an act, and to his best friend.

'NO! He is NOT my friend! He let them take me! He let them do this!' But Zosimo couldn't bring himself to push blame on Bumblebee. It wasn't his fault the Primus damned Allspark chose him. He sighed in sadness and lubricant built in his red optic lenses. The tears poured over and a glowing blue line ran down his cheek plates. He jumped at a loud slam down what he assumed to be the brig corridor. He ceased his tears and straightened, trying to appear strong while being crippled and broken inside. His sensitive hearing caught the steps of multiple mechs approaching his cell. The Autobots must have thought him an obvious threat to bring so many, and he didn't blame them. He was an unknown and hostile Decepticon who had proven to, frankly, not give a flying frag about the emotions of others. The brig was really a converted building, he could tell from the material that made the walls. If he had been on the Ark, the walls would be made from metal, not hardened concrete and stone. Maybe if he could get up and slam into the wall hard enough he could...

Fingertips tapped on the keypad, entering the access code to his high security cell, if the plasma bar power levels were anything to go by. A tall mech, about three fourths the height of Optimus Prime, stepped into view with hard optics and a strained blank expression. The Autobot 's red chevron gleamed in the dimly lit room, his black and white door wings fluttering faintly in response to the enclosed space. The black and white Praxian's appearance struck Zosimo. 'He looks like Barricade.' Not previously knowing this mech, Zosimo glanced to the glyphs on his forearm that stated his rank. His optics widened as he read the cybertronian. 'Oh slag.' This was the infamous SIC.

Prowl was well known to the Decepticons for his stone cold, stick in the mud attitude, his advanced battle computer, and a poker face that could only be matched by the 'Con's communications officer Soundwave. He devised tactics that met Shockwave's in logic and Starscream's (When given the chance to actually present one) in efficiency. A long time friend of Optimus Prime, Prowl had never been downed in combat due to melee attacks. He was strong in many forms of curcuit-su and other techniques.

Zosimo knew that this would be the longest interrogation he had ever faced. (Whenever a prank was pulled back on his base, the others questioned him on his involvement. They never got straight forward answers.) "You, Decepticon, have some explaining to do."His thoughts as he glanced into the cold optics of his interrogator were mainly curses to his existence but were well summed up with 'Oh slag. I'm dead.'

When Prowl heard the code red alarm, he immediately created a comm. link with Jazz. (The TIC saboteur was saved from deactivation by the healing hands of their resident wrench- wielding CMO). :Jazz. What's going on out there?:

:Prowler, a Decepticon got in. He apparently took on Sideswipe's appearance and spark signature ta pass through security. Ah'm headin' down to the med bay ta check on Ratch.: Came the reply. Prowl rose from his desk and drew his gun from his subspace, setting the fastest route to the main hanger and to the head computers.

When he arrived after a few clicks of sprinting, he found the hanger occupying only humans and no Decepticons in the vicinity. He guarded over the data bases with care. With Optimus gone merely three kliks ago to meet with human governmental leaders, he was currently head of command in his stead. He had left so suddenly, the other Autobots were bound to think their Prime was still on site. He was really hundreds of miles away playing politics with the humans. For a klik he remained, waiting and watching his sensors for any nearing Cybertronian. A ping sounded as another bot requested a comm. link with him, possibly with news about their infiltrator. Seeing the comm. ID as Jazz, he opened the link and started :Jazz, report. Have you got him?:

He met silence on the other end of the link and for a moment Prowl thought Jazz had 'hung up' on him. :Yeah. We got 'im...: Jazz's tone spoke of pain and Prowl was instantly worried. :Where was he? Did any bot become injured?: More silence... :Ya could say that.: Prowl was getting fed up with Jazz avoiding his questions and ordered in a commanding tone :Jazz. Report. NOW.: A sigh sent as static flowed over the link. :I can't tell ya Prowler. Just come ta the med bay and Ratchet will tell you.: The link was cut off abruptly and Prowl had the sinking feeling that someone wasn't going to wake up in the med bay.

5 cycles later

After practically bolting through the halls to the medical bay, Prowl's air pumps heaved for air as he stepped into the orange treatment area. Jazz's silver form was leaning against the wall across from him, visor powered a low, dark blue. Something wasn't right here, he could see Ratchet hunched over a berth with his back to him and Sideswipe and Ironhide nowhere to be found. He slowly proceeded over to Ratchet and was shocked at the slew of curses the medic grumbled under his breath, mainly circulating and directed towards the Decepticons. Prowl caught sight of a silver yellow pede and his spark froze. Bumblebee entered his vision completely and Prowl was puzzled at the lack of serious injury sustained to his body. Yet why was he in stasis lock? 'Something happened, I just know it.'

Ratchet turned when he felt another beside him and he gave Prowl a look of dismay. "Prowl, you're here." His voice was quiet and soft, a startling change from his usual rash tone. Prowl probed the situation carefully. "Ratchet, what happened to Bumblebee's door wings?" While not a true Praxian, Bumblebee's door wings were still extremely sensitive, and they were now bent at odd angles. Prowl turned his head to the cracks in the floor tiles near the far side wall, indicating a recent impact. Ratchet sighed and started "Prowl, Bumblebee... he was-" Jazz's helm rose and his visor brightened when the present three heard scuffing footsteps just outside the door.

In came Sideswipe and Ironhide, the former of the two looked exhausted and both wore expressions of hate that promised violence to any Decepticon unfortunate enough to cross their path. Sideswipe plopped himself down on the berth next to Bee, back strut slouching in fatigue. Jazz nodded to the two then returned to his thoughts, as dark and enraged as they were. Ratchet merely hummed a greeting, not taking his sapphire optics off of the unmoving form of the Autobot's scout. Prowl swiveled his helm, searching for the female human often found in Bumblebee's company.

"She's not 'ere Prowl." Prowl turned to Ironhide, who's accent seemed thicker with emotion. "Lennox took 'er home. She was quite distressed. Ah don't blame 'er, I would be too after seein' that." It was official, Prowl had absolutely no idea what they were talking about. "Would someone please tell me what happened here?

Ironhide nodded with a forlorn glance to the reclining Bumblebee. "The Decepticon" he started, the word laced with venom in his voice. "He broke into the med bay. Bee an' Mikaela were talking 'ere before he jumped out of th' vent. Mikaela described a wild crazed look in the 'Con's optics and she thinks Bumblebee saw it too. He put her on a berth, told her to run and tried to reason with the 'Con. Mikaela said that once Bee started talkin' the 'Con went crazy and tackled 'im to the floor. Then..."

"Then that filthy tin can broke law four. Bumblebee's a victim of attempted forced interface Prowl." Jazz had never sounded so infuriated in all the time Prowl had known him, and that was a long time. Prowl now understood their rage and felt it for himself. Prowl's frame started trembling and his face plates hardened, trying with all his might not to explode with his net sentence. "He is barely a mech, just out of his youngling vorns." An enraged aura radiated through his EM field. He then whispers and in a dangerous tone asks "Where is he?"

Sideswipe spoke up."We dragged him to the brig, cell three. We also checked his subspace, and I don't think his objective was to steal medical supplies." He starts counting off his fingers." He had on top off his built in weapons two plasma guns, twelve dust and ash grenades, a duel bladed staff, one EMPR (Electro Magnetic Pulser Rifle), two energon daggers, a dormant computer virus and-" Sideswipe held out a circular black object in the palm of his servo. "-this." Prowl took the small device from Sideswipe and examined it under his careful optics. "Any bombs on the prisoner?" Sideswipe shook his helm." No. I don't think his plan was to blow the place sky high. If it was, why was he so heavily armed and have a ready to plant virus? No, I think he was here for information, and was ordered to deactivate anybot in his way."

Prowl was somewhat surprised. Sideswipe rarely thought things this far through. Ratchet, having completed his scans of Bumblebee's status came over to the three and took a look at the strange object. His optics suddenly widened and he immediately snatched it for himself. Turning the thing over in his servos he spoke "Sideswipe where did you find this?" Sideswipe cocked his helm. "It was attached to the 'Con's spark chamber. We think it's a part of the 'con himself but we weren't sure if it was dangerous or not. So we took it."

Ratchet grunted. "It's dangerous alright. This is a spark inhibitor, the strongest I've ever seen. And I've seen more than most."

"How many Ratch?" Sideswipe's curiosity peaked. "Five." Sideswipe's optic ridge rose. "Five? And is that supposed to be most?" Ratchet shuddered his optics, the equivalent of an eye roll. "There have only been a recorded seven. These things aren't exactly easy to make, and even harder to use." He explained. "The user must have a strong and stable spark to be able to hide it's signature from other cybertronian sensors using one of these. My guess is that something happened in here that caused the Decepticon's spark to either increase or decrease in output strength."

"So that's why he just appeared to my sensor grid! But why would he have one in his spark chamber?" Sideswipe asked. "If there were only seven made, I don't think this unknown Decepticon would be one of the few to have one." Ratchet hummed in thought. "It could be a prototype built by Starscream I suppose. Or it could be, as you siggested, a part of the 'Con himself." Ratchet subspaced the signature inhibitor. "I think I'll hold onto this. Once Wheeljack gets here he can examine it." Jazz turned to Prowl from his place against the wall. "We recieved a transmission not too long ago from the Xanthium, it's gunna make planet fall soon."

Prowl nodded and directed his words to Ironhide and Sideswipe. "Take me to our guest. I think it's time we cleared this up, don't you?

So here he is now, standing before the monstrosity of a mech, who he was startled to see had tear streaks on his faceplates. He hid his astonishment with a question. "What is your designation, Decepticon?" He didn't get an immediate answer from the restrained mech but strained his audios to here the mech's mumble. "Zosimo, my designation is Zosimo." Ironhide also heard the mech's quiet answer and started running check for a file on this Decepticon. "Hmm. Zosimo, interesting designation. Doesn't it mean 'survivor' in an Earthen langu-"

"Look." Zosimo cut in. "I'm just going to stop you right there. You see, I'm not like the other grunts or like Screamer. I'm not going to tell you anything you want to know. "

"I disagree. I want to know what you were doing here and why you attacked our scout Bumbleb-"

"Shut Up! I would never do that to Bee! I know I got out of hand for a minute there but... I gained control again, okay? I wouldn't do that to him."

Prowl leaned in further, sensing they may have found a break in the other's defenses. "Then tell me Zosimo," The black mech looked away from him and stared at a speck of dirt on the ground, unable to meet the second in command's optics. "If you say you wouldn't have done it, then why did you?" Zosimo raised his head and the two locked optics. Prowl faltered for a moment at the empty emotion in the other. They say the optics are windows to the spark, and Prowl was gazing upon a pretty broken spark.

"I said I wouldn't do it. I never said it wouldn't." With that Zosimo fell silent. There were only two Autobots he wanted to talk to. One was on the other side of the planet and the other wasn't in any condition to talk at all, let alone to his attacker. The curse Zosimo bared could be understood by one mech, only the Matrix bearer would truly understand... After all, it was he that held his ailment's other half. Only he would understand the darkness of the Allspark.


	5. Chapter 5

Engines sputtered and coughed like an ill, choking animal, leaving segmented smoke trails behind the increasingly impatient shuttle-former. Astrotrain growled to himself, his ire increasing with every passing cycle. 'Typical over confident slag heap. I told him eight kliks. Eight! Not fifteen! Did I say"Go on Zosimo, go have fun tormenting the little Autobots. Make sure to enjoy yourself! Take your time, I have all day!" Did I say that ! No!' He cursed at himself for not seeing this coming. Was Lord Megatron out of his seemingly lost processor! What was he thinking! Giving an obsessive abomination like that piece of tin such an essential task of such high importance was absolute ludicrous! Why, even Starscream could achieve more than that thing, and he doesn't accomplish anything! His patience (however minute it was to begin with) finally gave out and Astrotrain forced open a long-distance comm. link, positively seething as he nearly roared :Zosimo!: Astrotrain snarls, his comm. weakly replying with blank static as if struggling to carry out it's dieing frequency. 'Zosimo's comm. must be damaged or... maybe...'

:Zosimo, you fraggin' glitch! Answer your Primus damned comm.!: An emergency notification blared and flashed from the side of his sensor relay indicator, signifying an imminent disconnection from the other end. Zosimo must have been compromised, there was no other possibility. It was now or never, and before the link was completely disintegrated, Astrotrain yelled furiously :if you don't answer your fucking comm. in the next three seconds I swear to the pit I will-:

Silence in the guise of electrical static met his cut off threat. Rage boiling over the low brink of Astrotrain's temper he let his frustrations be known to the world. With an incensed cry, a plasma missile came flying from it's enraged launcher only to slam unceremoniously into the open land below with a brutal explosion. Fire ravaged nearby trees and as the thick black smokescreen lifted, a charcoal crater the size of a large truck came into view. Feeling no remorse whatsoever for the life he had just destroyed, Astrotrain raged in his mind, streaming through the colorful cuss words he knew and formed the worst into a string of belittling, vividly detailed sentences of exactly what he thought about the current predicament, that had been forced onto him by his ever so loved 'partner'. 'How did this happen! Shockwave clearly said the monster wouldn't get caught, that he would go in, slag some pathetic autobots, swipe the data from the computer and get the pit out of there! He said this mission was full proof, and now Megatron is going to blame this whole thing on me!' Sucking up what little courage he had, he prepared to open a link with his unsuspecting leader and be confronted with the terrors of being the bearer of bad news. Suddenly, his internal sensors caught the vibrations of an earthen vehicle approaching, ten miles on the horizon due south. 'The direction of the Autobot base! Maybe it's a 'bot out on patrol or something. Well, it would be best give him a warm welcome, no?'

Veering sharply to the left, Astrotrain pushed his tired thrusters, urging them to pick up speed in order to meet the possible threat head on with enough momentum that when the bot transformed, he'd be immediately swept off his pedes. He waited anxiously for a signature to register on his HUD, it's helpful to know just who you're up against, lest it turned out to be someone way out of his league like Prime. He waited... and waited... When the vehicle was only three miles out Astrotrain -now thoroughly worried something was seriously wrong with his readings- focused his scanners to the slow cruising vehicle. (Honestly, even with his lousy sensor net, the signal should have shown up by now) Finally with a sickeningly cheerful ping, his indignation payed off as he inspected his findings. His wing flaps slammed up into a near ninety degree angle and thrusters nearly jammed with the swiftness of which they were thrown into reverse.

Now scrupulously pissed off and gliding at his now severely reduced pace, Astrotrain refused his processor's wish to spontaneously combust and instead banked sharply right out of his steepening dive towards the unknown vehicle. Curiosity built in his mind, as did emerging suspicion. 'What in the pit is a civilian jeep doing out here! It's nearly a desert out here with nothing but inanimate plant life, which is scarce enough as it is. Who the frag would even want to be in this wasteland! Wait... well well, whet do we have here?'

With an inward smirk, he zoomed in his optics to their maximum resolution to gaze upon the two humans seated in the front polyester seats, conversing without any notice to him at all. Their faces, especially the female's were creased with what Astrotrain guessed to be anger. (He isn't very good at the 'reading humans' thing, that's Sideways' department) The male, dressed in a recognizable military camouflage uniform and the ostensibly more relaxed of the two fleshies, moved his mouth to speak to the his distraught companion. Her body tensed and a look of utter shock crossed her face as she answered the male. Astrotrain growled, his distance form the jeep to far for his audios to pick up on their conversation. But truth be told, he didn't care about their measly vocal exchange. What he was interested in was the scarlet, steel gray and dull yellow enemy logo stamped on the driver's door. 'So, these meat bags are from N.E.S.T huh. They may prove useful to my master...'

With that encouraging thought, he launched a grapple hook from a compartment in his belly, watching as it shot with alarming speed to pierce the jeep roof with a loud "CRASH". Feeling heavy resistance from the vehicle and confident his hook was secure, Astrotrain began retracting the thick cable. Screams of fear and surprise could be heard from the interior as could a shouted call fro help. What he didn't realize was that the cry wasn't directed to the female, but into a black radio mounted on the dash board. Swearing, Astrotrain was quick to send out an electro-pulse, jamming the communications device, but he was mere seconds too late. The transmission long with an S.O.S beacon were now broadcasting faster than the speed of sound, an open invitation to any Autobot to come heroically to the rescue- silly morals and all that slag. Finally having seized the opportunity to redeem himself, Astrotrain banked in the direction of the Decepticon base and sent Magatron a comm. message. :Astrotrain en-route to base. Zosimo compromised. N.E.S.T hostages in captivity for interrogation. Arrival estimation, five kliks.:

On Cybertron, life was anything but simple regardless of your lineage. It didn't matter if you were a ridiculed 'war machine' seeker from Vos, or a smug and haughty aristocrat from The Towers, the five rules regarding each and every mech, femme and sparkling were the same across every inch of the robotic planet. In some places where they were broken, like the shining Autobot city of Iacon, you would be immediately charged, in trial and offlined in the worst possible way within the vorn- a very short time in the perspectives of the cybertronians meant only to allow perpetrators the small comfort of family farewells and time alone to think about their terrible crimes. In others like Kaon- where laws were broken merely for entertainment of just because a bot felt like it- those who committed any of the five acts were overlooked by bystanders and feeble Enforcers alike.

The five were labeled as such for their levels of severity, and punishment was assigned accordingly to each. The first and most severe was as follows: Under no circumstance nor indecent may any cybertronian intentionally or unintentionally damage another yet carrying cybertronian. To harm a carrier and it's un-sparked child was the most frowned upon crime to be committed, the price for doing so was circumstantial, dependent on whether or not the carrier and sparkling survived an attack. Death due to an attack warranted severe torture at the hands of trained killers and offlining in the most painful way possible, cybonic acid poured on the spark. Cybonic acid was first refined in the earliest millennium of Cybertron and outlawed soon after when it proved to eat through virtually anything at a searingly slow pace.

The second law: Creators or otherwise are prohibited to intentionally harm any youngling under the age of their third upgrade into the adolescent stage of life. The verdict for the breaking of law two was a quick, merciful and painless death. Unlike Earthen homo-sapiens, for a cybertronian to spark on their own with a bondmate, or as a result of Allspark intervention was rare and never taken lightly. In the history of Cybertron recorded only in the oldest of records and in the Allspark itself, when cybertronians had only just begun populating their world there was a time period named 'The Barren Age.' During the age, for reasons speculated at the best of times, the Allspark ceased sparking life into the empty shells of offered sparklings. Cybertronians underwent a strange and worrying development soon after. They became unable to spark on their own and it didn't matter if they were mechs or the more 'fertile' femmes, no new sparks were kindled. Panic became wide spread like a plague, enveloping the planet in fear of their species dying out like a fading star. Near the end the Barren Age, one sparkling was given the chance of life and shocked the planet. The species recovered, but never took the Allspark for granted again. The sparkling proved to be unique, but in a terrible way. An unstable mech who constantly talked to the voices in his mind, and was drawn to violence like a moth to the flame. In pity of the insane and suspected insentient being, it was offlined to protect not only others but itself as well... or so everyone thought... Ah, but I digress, how could they know...

The third: The murder of any cybertronian is severe and punishable in any form. Linked closely to the second law, murder outside of war or self defense is forbidden. Planned murders were an often occurrence in the slum and poverty present cities while, on the other hand, average and high class populations were mostly passive and had the very rare anger fueled killing for one reason or another. Punishment is varied depending on the age group of the victim and the circumstances of their death. Attempting to murder another was never as harsh actually succeeding, which would inevitably lead to a lifetime in some maximum security prison where energon was served in the low grade and stale. A place where you wish you were dead if only to be freed of a dark solitary cell, never to vent the fresh air of freedom again.

The fourth is perhaps the most disturbing of the five for obvious reasons. After all, no cybertronian would like to be beaten and used like some soulless possession for another's pleasurable gain. Interfacing is to be kept consensual on all levels. Forcing is strictly forbidden to all levels of cybertronian development, regardless of age or frame type.Again, in some places this law is heavily enforced yet in others, it is hardly frowned upon and dare I say a normal, orn to orn practice. In the event of forced interface victimizing a youngling, it is up to the guardian or creator to charge and incriminate their creation's rapist. Once old enough to be considered in their final frame, they must pursue their case on their own with help from witnesses and law enforcement. (Which is, I'm sad to say, extremely varied to the point in some pit like areas such a restriction does not exist) When a perpetrator is unsuccessful in their attempted act, the maximum sentence is significantly decreased but in the opinion of ex-convicts, the public ridicule they face when released would be enough for any bot to want to scurry back prison, helm held low in shame and- when made possible due to frame type- tails between their legs.

The fifth and final law is unique and despite it's lower severity, the rarest of the five to be broken. This is a result of the specific and special situations one may accuse another of breaking law five. Only in war, insubordination and traitor convictions may be punished by their Commander in any way they see fit. Pushed into the Laws of Reconciliation by the ever so cowardly and fearful Autobot council, this allowed the council to 'call the shots' as it were. In the Autobot hierarchy they were at the top of the chain, able to eliminate any Autobot they found to be a 'traitor', or in truth anyone they wanted to get rid of to keep their rule unquestioned and absolute. Even after the council had all been hunted down and slaughtered by the right-lacking and grudge holding Decepticons, it only seemed logical to continue to enforce the fifth law, after all the war was a lifestyle now and although some with for it to just end, others don't give a slag as long as they're fed and sheltered.

So you see, the Laws of Reconciliation were the worst of the worst, overshadowing petty thieves and rebel adolescent nonsense any day. Only a handful of mechs in history have been able to achieve breaking all five of the infamous commandments and fewer still managing to get away with it, no femme has ever been able to get away with more than two in a life-cycle. The only mech still online that fits this category of scum cans is Megatron, which is unsurprising in my opinion. I told The One he would lead to no good, I felt the evil tainting the demon child's new spark. The greatest mistake The One probably made for his race was to refuse perusing my ' suspicion' and let my brother get away with planting the irreversible seed of death within a sparkling who could have achieved so much, could have reached amazing goals. As the child grew, more seeds were planted in uneven patterns yet none were ever as prominent as the first. In order to counter his intervention and even the balance of power that had been broken with the heavy spike of malice, I made the first choice that was my own since the Thirteen and gave a naturally sparked creation the qualities required of a trusted leader. Vorns later, too many to count or want to remember, when the war began, the Golden Age shattered and my brother sinking deeper into corruption to the point even The One distrusted his gift.

In a last ditch effort to cease the devastating carnage, I took a risk and spoke to my host for the first time in his life. The explanation was hard on my emotions and only once finished had I realized just how dark my sibling had become, and with the enforced apprehension of the task at servo my host fulfilled my only request. Up until this present moment, I had believed in an admittedly naive perception that my brother was out of reach and unable to disturb the slowly calming waters of the typhoon of war. That he was unable to burden anyone else with his blood lust and depleting energy, unable to plant a new growth. Three human years ago, my misconception cost The Chosen his body, and now his innocence. My host is moving now, moving towards my other half and his Chosen. I am the Matrix of Leadership, and my brother is about to learn what happens when he bites off more than he can chew.

"- And further more, after the significant attack the enemy threat posed to our planet three years ago, we conclude that in the best interests of the population of Earth and ourselves, the superlative decision is to continue to allow the Autobots asylum in the United States." Suddenly at the comment of the Russian representative, Theodore Galloway, the Autobot's appointed liaison and America`s security Director stood abruptly, countering with "And draw in the Decepticons to hunt them down! I think not! In the President's best interest of our National Security, I think we should just exile these machines from our planet. They are causing much more harm than good!" Sensing the start of another booming disagreement inwardly, Optimus Prime gave a loud sigh of irritation. Playing politics with the humans was tiring, this single conference even with its outstanding importance had lasted far too long. So much negativity and bickering within the numerous factions of Earth was comparable to seeker sparklings arguing over who would be allowed to take wing first. If left alone, it never ended well. This was quite prominent in most countries, although the most prominent was an obvious rivalry feud between Russia and America. The verbal divergence grew as allied countries joined the squawking security leaders, not wanting to be left hanging and confused.

Optimus sighed out loud this time and glanced around the circular table for any sign of open hostility. Only a few leaders or representatives remained seated, either not wanting to join in or were actually focusing on the task at hand. One human was trying and failing to calm Galloway from her seat next to his, where he was still shouting crudely at Russia. When he shrugged her pleas off, she looked pissed and instead turned away and continued to talk to herself.

The fight reached it's peak and instead of rational suggestions being offered, accusations an insults were being thrown at each other. Not wanting the chaos to continue any further, he took a step forward and opened his mouth to speak. However, before he got the chance to point out the childishness of their actions, a human beat him to it. "Quiet!" There the NSDC, or National Security Director of Canada stood with, puzzlingly, a megaphone in hand raised to her mouth and an expression that would scare most adult men, sending them to their worst enemy's arms, screaming all the way. Optimus now realized that the female who had been previously attempting to calm Galloway had now just practically shattered his ear drums. Satisfied by the silence that met her order, she began to utilize the oldest and most successful trick in the political book. Guilt tripping.

"What is wrong with you people? We are here to discuss a very serious issue like civilized people, not backbiting, squabbling buffoons! Now if you could all please take your seats so we may conclude our assembly." In stunned silence, one by one they slowly eased back into their chairs. Before continuing, Optimus's audios picked up the quiet mutter of Galloway. "The President will hear about this. Damn goody-two-shoes Canadian 'peace keepers' need to learn to keep their noses out of other people's business so we can get the hell out of here."

It turns out Optimus wasn't the only one to pick up on his derogatory comment if the few gasps and burning glare that met him were anything to go by. Nearly growling but noticeably holding back anger, the NSDC narrowed her eyes and answered in a strained but still respectful tone. " Well it seems we can now all 'get the hell out of here'. The decision has been made and the Autobots are staying at Diego Garcia."

Pure shock overlapped the sneer on Galloway's face, and he sputtered "Y-you can't make that choice! We...we still need to talk this over! You don`t have the authority!" Optimus raised an eye arch at the confidence in the female's voice and his optics shuttered in apprehension. "I think you'll find that I can. While you men were jibber- jabbering, I made a few calls, mainly to the President of the United States and Prime Minister of Russia." Heads turned, signaling she had everyone's unwavering attention. Galloway slumped, mouth opening and closing trying to find something to say before he was made out to be a completely foolish idiot. "You don't think I was just going to stand there and watch you grown leaders tear each other apart do you? Come now, we weren't getting anywhere and you forget the Leader of the Autobots is standing mere meters away. You should be ashamed, the way you talk about them. What did they ever do to you?"Finally getting his vocal cords to move, Galloway stuttered "B-but they-"

'But nothing . It's final, the Autobots are to remain in America." Turning to Optimus she added "Assuming as long as you find this arrangement agreeable, of course." Not for the first time since arriving on this strange little back water world, Optimus found himself dumbfounded by the complexity of human life. Here before him was a human who not only stood up for his people in front of her peers but also managed to control the situation without the help of others. The qualities of a leader, Optimus hoped this female would come to all of the future meetings if she could command such respect. Nodding his head in gratitude Optimus finally spoke. " I appreciate your understanding of our current situation and am grateful for the hospitality you have offered my people and I. We will remain in the United states for as long you allow us. Regarding the Decepticons, I must advise you all to remain vigilant. Decepticons are masters of deception and skillful in hiding. We will offer support and keep an optic out for any sign of their return, but I would appreciate it if we can all keep a close eye out for any of their signals. Knowing Megatron, they will not have given up so easily."

Sensing that his speech had reached its close, representatives proceeded to stand from their wooden chairs and file out of the hanger like conference building. Looking down to the female at his side, Optimus nodded his thanks again to the Canadian NSD. " I grateful for your optimism and for standing up from my people. I feared that this meeting would get out of hand, but you prevented that by taking initiative. Thank you, I look forward to working with you and your country in the near future." Smiling up at him she nodded back and replied confidently "I too look forward to seeing you again. It was a pleasure meeting you Optimus Prime."

"The pleasure is all mine" He watched as she entered her black SUV and the remainder of the participants leave the building. Stepping through the large door, he watched the others depart, weather by plane or four wheeled vehicle. When the final military jet had passed over the orange and pink hued sunset horizon Optimus prepared to transform and return to Diego Garcia. Suddenly, a sharp agonizing bolt of pain slashed through the core of his spark. He gasped and clutched his spark chamber, knee joints wavering as if threatening to buckle under his weakening frame. Fear and surprise filtered into his processor and he nearly collapsed at the violent torrent of emotion and white hot pain raking his spark. Just as abruptly as it began the searing ache ceased and flabbergasted worry flooded over his emotional center.

He could feel the Matrix, huddled close and in direct contact with his spark pulse in a soothing manner, as if trying to calm his frizzled nerves. It wasn't working. Immediately opening a public long range comm. link with Ratchet he queried grimly :Ratchet what has happened? Is Bumblebee hurt? I felt his emotions through our guardian bond. Has he been injured?: A deep and weary sigh met his question, one full of sorrow and flushing dread in the form of an icy wave slunk over Optimus. Nearly begging in fear for his 'son' he urged :Please old friend, tell me what has happened to Bumblebee?: A reaction finally came over from the other end in the words :That filthy, slagging son of bi-:

:Shut UP Hide! I'm trying to talk to Prime!: The familiar gruff tone of his CMO allowed Optimus to clearly envision Ratchet rolling his optics at his bondmate's outburst. :I'm sorry Optimus, but I want to tell you face to face. I'm worried that-:

:You mean we are worried!: Someone cut in, drawing forth a snarl from Ratchet met by a resonating "CLANG" on the other side of the link, signifying that someone's favorite and heaviest wrench had collided with the unfortunate fool's helm. :OW! Slag it Ratch, that hurt!:

:It was supposed to, you little hellion! Now SHUT UP! I'm talkin' to Prime!:

A grumpy :FINE: was heard from Sideswipe before Optimus heard another groan from Ratchet. :Look Optimus, something out of my hands has just happened here and I don't think it's entirely safe to say now. All you need to know is that I have an extremely dangerous and deranged Decepticon in a cell waiting for you, and try to prepare yourself for the news. I'm positive you aren't going to take this at all well.: Leaving no opportunity for an argument, Ratchet closed off the link and blocked Optimus from his contacts.

Taking calming steadying inhales of air, Optimus transformed into his flame decal Peterbuilt alternative from and headed at the absolute legal limit for not getting pulled over towards the base. Taking an intersection towards the quickest highway, Bumblebee's emotions were blocked off from their bond and the Matrix was continuously beating in rhythm, like a sparkbeat of another.

Reaching the highway, Optimus focused all of his attention to driving back as quickly as possible, ignoring the prodding of the Matrix to his spark. Had he not been so concentrated on the cars in front of him and the signs around him, Optimus would have heard the hushed feminine whisper speaking softly in his mind. "Keep a clear head my Host, and don't be angry with the Other. Give him a chance. Give my brother a chance to change his ways or at least... give the boy the chance to control himself. He will need you help most of all my Host, please don't fail him. I will be with you." The voice faded and Optimus managed to catch the last sentence of the voice at a red light before it faded away. "I have always been with you."


	6. Chapter 6

The next day- Autobot Base

Jazz growled from his hunched position leaning against the pure white wall of the interrogation room, thoroughly agitated and not the least bit amused by the black smirking figure leaning haughtily backward in his chair, cuffed servos resting in his lap, thumbs idly twiddling just for the fun of it. 

It was these kind of punks that made Jazz despise the 'Cons all the more, arrogant and disrespectful through and through. Behind his brightened visor he shot a glance at his stressed mate sitting tensely in a scuffed chair on the other side of the table sitting lonely in the middle of the room. He looked about ready to collapse in exhaustion, having gone too long without recharging during the 13 hour process of wheedling nonsense out of 'Zosimo'. 

The dull silence in the room was disturbed only by the gently scuffing of a shifting Ironhide on the other side of the only door, guarding over their little session. Optics flashing, he pushed himself from the padded wall and took a few steps forward. From his new place behind the SIC's slumped doorwings, he could see pearly white denta peek out from their prisoner's grinning mouth. What an egotistical little bastard.

"So yeh say you were out for a drive, minding your own business, when you coincidentally stumbled upon our base, which may I point out is in the middle of a wasteland, and just decided to stroll in? Yeah, ah'm gunna believe every word of that slag." Zosimo hesitated, making a show of tapping his finger against the bottom of his tilted chin. He then smiled, as if pleased, and bobbed his head. "That sounds about right, yeah." He then propped his pedes up on his end of the table, relaxed as if talking to a good friend over a cube of energon.

"But I think you missed out the part about the hidden bunker I was planning on blowing up. I believe it's not too far from here." Zosimo chuckled to himself. "But that's 'confidential information' isn't it? Meaning only the big boys can go play there, am I right?"

He got a dangerous glint in his blood red optics, and Jazz scowled. " Such as certain leaders of certain countries, having a tea party at this moment, chattering away over your eminent fate as if it were nothing but yesterday's gossip." He laughed hard, the booming noise echoing almost insanely off the pristine walls. "Imagine, being sent off to your doom by a bunch of fleshies! Hahahaha!"

Jazz snarled. He was done playing happy buddies with the spiky freak. Suddenly slamming his servos on the table with enough force to make the hard steel groan in protest, he leaned into the other's personal space and yelled."That's it you little, fragger! Why did you do it, thought it would be fun didn't yah?" Zosimo stopped cackling in an instant, smile melting of his faceplates to harden into a steep frown. "Thought making Bee squirm would make you feel good, hm? Well it wouldn't because you're a decepticon!" Jazz's fist pound into the tabletop, marking a large dent into the abused surface. Zosimo growled, shark like denta baring, loose servos curling angrily into tight fists.

Prowl placed a servo on his enraged mates arm, optics dulling tiredly. "Jazz, please calm down. This is getting us nowhere." Jazz heard the room's heavy door open cautiously, but shook his mate's comfort off regardless, CPU clouded with rage over the larger mech's insolence. Moving around the table and ignoring the slightly hurt look in Prowl's blue optics, he advanced aggressively, pressing his verbal attack. "And everyone knows Decepticons can't feel a Primus damned thing, can yah?" Rushing forward, he shoved Zosimo's frame off the steel chair and to the floor, the restricted motion allowing shallow scratches to run along the heavier mech's chest armor and sending the immobilized offender smashing to the ground painfully.

Zosimo tensed, all previous childishness forgotten as he rose up, hunched to his knees. "You'd better lay off, Jazzy. You don't know who you're dealing with." Ironhide entered the room warily moving near the three while Prowl too stood up. In a commanding tone he said "Both of you need to calm down, NOW. That's an order." He stepped closer behind Jazz while it was his mate's turn to laugh. "Who I'm dealing with? Mech, you wouldn't stand a chance on the battlefield. Then again you would feel the pain of getting slagged would you?" Before Prowl could stop his overemotional mate, Jazz's servo swung forward claws slicing exposed cables, visor shining a deep purple. "Couldn't feel that could yah? COULD YAH!?"

"JAZZ! THAT'S ENOUGH!" Prowl hollered, stepping between a silent Zosimo and a violent saboteur. "Violence proves NOTHING! I would have expected you knew that!" Jazz turned on his mate, not relaxing in the slightest. "Enough!? Prowl, this pit spawn is the reason Bumblebee is lying right now in stasis on the med bay. The reason he could be scarred for the rest of his functioning! I would say it's well past the point of a civil conversation, wouldn't you!?" Prowl stepped back, utterly surprised by his love's erratic behavior, servos coming up to spread protectively between the two. Jazz froze as he saw the slightly fearful look in Prowl's optics, before it hardened over, professionalism taking place of emotion. "Jazz, we do not resort to violence to gain compliance from our prisoners, ever. It is what separates us from our enemies. Because we are capable of showing compassion, we have earned our place on this planet. Acting in the way you are now is not our way and it means we can live here freely, relatively without fear." His face softened. "Please, give him a chance to change his way of thinking. We both know that isn't out of the realm of possibility."

Thinking to himself for a moment, Jazz's shoulders finally lowered in defeat, optics dimming in shame. "Prowl... I-" Jazz was roughly cut off as Ironhide suddenly yanked them towards the door strongly enough to make them stumble over their pedes, letting them feel the heated air near his humming arm cannon. "I-Ironhide, what-"

"Get behind me, slowly." He said lowly both optics and cannon aimed accurately to the quivering form on the tile floor. A steady drip could be heard as free flowing energon gathered into a growing puddle staining the ground. But the slow noise was drowned out by a high pitched and unnatural hiss slipping into their audios. Their optics were drawn to the rising helm as their gaze was matched with the gleaming fire burning from scarlet pits. In the bright light of the snow shaded room, the jet black Decepticon stood out like the moon in the sky, light shining off his armored plates. With a power matched by few, Zosimo's binds were shattered with one swift yank, claws and denta glinting like the edge of a blade, sharp and so eerily defined. The growing hiss then shifted to a full-out screech, shoulder plates rattling like a threatening snake. Jazz and Prowl took out their handheld weapons form their subspaces, the small group backing out of the room from the warning of the seemingly out of it mech.

:Prowl, alert the humans and call for Sideswipe. We don't know what this thing is capable of.: Complying immediately, Prowl continued to back off, unsure of the thoughts running through Zosimo's sick mind, unpredictable and dangerous though they were sure to be. As if hearing his thoughts, Zosimo did both the unpredictable and most surprising action he could have possibly done in that situation, nothing. Nothing. He just crouched there, poised in warning and growling in a way fitting of a monster, optics narrowed to slits while darting quickly between the three of them to the corridor behind. But that was it, no advances were made, just a burning glare eying them with the utmost fury. Yet behind the wall of ferocity, Prowl could see a battle for self control raging, but between who or what, he didn't know.

Taking advantage of the lack of movement from Zosimo Ironhide commed them both. :Now's our chance, let's lock the punk inside until the humans get here. Where's Lennox? His men should have been here by now: Slightly tipping his head forward in an almost-nod they suddenly burst into movement, without a moment to spare. Triggering the monster inside to come forth, Zosimo lunged with a roar. Falling into the hallway, Ironhide broke for the door latch, desperate to stop the speeding blur barreling toward Prowl. Unfortunately, he was too late.

Prowl grunted at the unexpected attack, falling to the ground at a weight nearly equal to his own crashed into his chassis, only a loud screech ringing in his audio before razor denta ripped at the sensitive tubes and cables in his exposed neck. Jazz was never more devastated in his life as he was when he heard the cry of agony from his winded mate. At that point only two things mattered to him, protecting his bondmate and destroying the terrible creature currently raking his jagged claws down prowl's chest and arms. Prowl continued to flail, struggling to overcome Zosimo's quick movements and strong hold on his shoulder. Finally getting his pedes under his attacker Prowl kicked with all the force he could muster, sending Zosimo slamming into the far side of the hall, where one corridor met with another. But it proved Zosimo knew his weaknesses and exactly how to exploit them, managing to rip a scratched doorwing from its hinge in Prowl's back and take it with him. Holding his bleeding neck , Prowl howled in pure pain before the pain proved too much and he fell limp, glowing energon swiftly pooling around his torso.

Jazz cried out in fear and pain as he felt his mate's suffering through their bond. Collapsing to his knees at his mate's side, he put pressure on Prowls neck. Across the hall Zosimo used the wall as support while he rose up, turning the wing over in his servos with sick curiosity. Grunting in disregard, he tossed the useless appendage towards the pair and instead turned his attention to the fresh energon staining his palm. In that second, nothing but that luminescent liquid mattered, not the humans approaching from around the corner behind his victims, the near misses firing from Ironhide's cannon or the dark figure looming closer with large strides. None of it mattered, only the smell, the feeling of fresh life in his hands. And soon the taste. Helm dipping forward, Zosimo raised his servo to his mouth, glossa peeking out to sample the unique substance.

Zosimo shivered at the flavor, like dark chocolate. Bitter, but not overly so mixed with the subtle tang of something special. Zosimo's optics narrowed. 'So that's why the midget so protective. Hmp, how pathetic.' Zosimo's smirk reappeared, and he took a deep, content intake of air then stepped forward, picturing the arena in his warped mind. Another challenge, but you know what they say. 'Victory is sweet.' His step was abruptly cut off when a hot blade pressed threateningly to his throat, threatening to behead him should he move but an inch. Slowly turning his stare from his still wet palm, ignoring the sharp bite of one if Ironhide's bullets lodged in his lower abdomen, burning red met icy blue and Optimus Prime stood, right arm outstretched, meeting his gaze fearlessly. Zosimo smiled wide and genuinely. "Oh, hello Orion."

Robert Epps was a relatively nice guy if you got to know him for long enough. But he held a great distaste for politicians, for the reasons Galloway was so clearly projecting to the soldiers in the mess hall at that very moment. If it was legal and if it didn't get in the way of his own morals, Epps wouldn't be particularity upset to see the annoying man six feet under. "You are not authorized to keep an enemy infiltrator on site. This base doesn't contain enough firepower to hold off the N.B.E.s should they come looking for their missing comrade. for everybody's safety,we should have that machine moved to a more secure location to be dealt with there." Galloway yelled up at Ratchet, who had been left in charge while Prowl and Jazz were trying to get the Con to talk. Ratchet grumbled under his breath while moving about the med bay to check on Bumblebee and keep everything in order.

"As I said before Director, you should speak to Optimus when he arrives. But until then, Prowl is commander of this base and authorization lies with him." He looked down at the pesky little human, servos on his hips and trusty wrench clutched in his left servo, who peered up at the shiny tool warily. "And seeing as Prowl left me in charge that would mean I have authorization, and that means what I say, goes." He turned to check Bumblebee's spark rate on a monitor, smirking over his shoulder. " But if you have a problem with the judgement of your president, we could take it up with him. Their special meeting just finished, so we could call him right now if you like."

Epps grinned to himself at seeing the coward shuffle uncomfortably. "N-no, Ratchet. That w-won't be necessary. Sorry for bothering you, I can see you are busy at the moment." Turning serious again he turned to leave the room but first said " Tell your Prime to call me when he gets here, there are some things I would like to... discuss with him." Head held high with pride he strode out of the med bay, but not without sending a quick glare towards Epps, which he gladly returned.

"Hey Ratch?" Ratchet hummed, attention unwavering from Bumblebee as he made some finishing touches to a small dent in his right doorwing. "Yes Robert, what is it?" Putting down his tool, Ratchet bent down to one knee and offered his servo to the human, which he happily accepted."I really don't like that dude." Ratchet chuckled deeply as he set the army-man down onto the scout's berth-side table."I must say I don`t enjoy his company myself." The two sat in a comfortable silence for a little while, Ratchet busy tinkering away at his patient's leg until Epps asked something that he had been wonder about for a while. "Ratchet, have you seen Will anywhere today? Sarah called and said he didn't come home yesterday, and I'm getting worried. It's not like him to lave Sarah hanging, he practically worships the woman." Ratchet gave a disturbed grunt and gave Epps a strange look. "No, I haven't heard from him since the...incident yesterday. Are you sure? Ironhide asked him to message base when he arrived home." Epps shook his head and replied "I'm sure."

He looked to the floor, as if the answer was written there for him to read. He suddenly remembered. "Hey Ratchet, what about Mikaela? The Spitz kid said she didn't come back to their apartment either. Didn't you say the Captain was bringing her there?" Ratchet dropped his tool in surprise. Looking over he bent over to retrieve it and replied "Yes he was. Hmm..." Before he could get any farther, he felt a familiar presence enter the med bay behind them. "Ratchet? Where is Bumblebee? You sounded concerned over the link earlier. Is he having trouble sleeping aga-" Optimus froze, gazing upon the still form of his 'son' on the berth. He walked over, in partial shock. What had happened, he had been gone less that twenty-four hours, and this is what happens. Ratchet stuttered "O-Orion! I didn't expect you to be back so... so soon." The Prime sighed, looking down on Bumblebee, who looked so fragile lying there without the smallest movement. "Ratchet, what happened to Bumblebee. Please, tell me."

Ratchet felt extremely uncomfortable all of a sudden and he glanced behind him to Bumblebee. He then sighed heavily. "Orion..."

'Oh no,' Optimus though to himself 'he's calling me... something is wrong here.' Out loud he pressed "Ratchet, I promise to do my best to control my emotions, but please. Just tell me what's wrong with Bumblebee. What's wrong with my son?" Ratchet rubbed in between his optics for a moment before retelling the events of the day before. As he spoke, Optimus's face continually became more concerned. "-and now Prowl and Jazz are talking to him. Ironhide's there to make sure the young mech's behavior stays in check. Also to make sure they can handle the Con's... violent behavior." Ratchet looked away when Optimus gazed into his optics and spoke in a low voice. "Ratchet, what do you mean by violent behavior. What did he do to Bumblebee?" Ratchet met Optimus's stare and answered "Bumblebee is now the victim of the attempted breaking of rule four, I'm sorry Orion."

The Prime's world stopped in that moment. Funny, how a single sentence can change your life. Before being able to haul in his self control a voice projected from the speakers in the right corner of the medical bay. "EMERGENCY. all available Autobots and military personnel, please proceed to room 339, hanger I. N.B.E alert, this is not a drill. I repeat, NOT A DRILL. EMERGENCY. EMERGENCY."  
Ratchet looked quickly to his Prime only to find empty floor and an enraged shadow storm from the large room. The lime medic sprung into action grabbing his wrench and Epps before running after his Commander. Hopefully he would catch Prime before Prime caught Zosimo.

Optimus was running blind, so to speak, rage clouding his processor like a cube of rich high grade. Yet he could see the mech in front of him as clear as day, standing just down the hall. Just standing there staring at his servo, as if it were the most interesting object in the universe. It was clearly more interesting to him than the numerous bullets rocketing into and around him around the corner, down the corridor he was facing. Optimus could care less about the bullets, or about what exactly was shimmering off the servo the insane monster held to his mouth. No, the only thing he cared about was pinning the horrendous creature and forcing it to meet the consequences of its vile actions. Moving faster than he thought he was capable of he transformed his right servo into his energon sword and pressed the hot blade's edge to the black mech's throat. The young mech froze glancing down as if surprised. Then a broad smirk appeared in the other's lips and the spiked helm slowly turned to meet his hateful stare, meeting his icy cobalt optics with frenzied crimson. Something in those burning lenses stirred a disturbing feeling in his spark, which lurched as if to jump when the mech spoke with a smooth, mocking tone. "Oh, hello Orion."


	7. Chapter 7

Mikaela shivered from the sheer freezing air biting into her skin.

She glanced to her left, Will still knocked out cold from the force of the air bag deploying, a small gash leaking crimson blood over the bag's white cover. As the minutes go by she watches as the sickly red dries to a dark auburn, then finally a deep brown only to be resurfaced with fresh red liquid.

She hugged her thin jacket to her chest, trying desperately to keep warm in the cold air of the mid Troposphere. The jeep and swayed and she hurried to clasp her seat belt to her body as the vehicle lurches left from its tether.

All she could hear was the gentle flow of flowing air pierced by the shrieking whine of the Decepticon's engines spinning overhead. It had to be a Decepticon, Mikaela just knew it. Although she had yet to see the insignia anywhere on the ship's vast hull, her mind portraying it everywhere it would be logical to place a large, devil-like logo.

Mikaela stopped to think for a moment. 'What do they want? We haven't done anything wrong-'. She paused and looked over to Will's military uniform and the crest stitched proudly on the shoulder. 'Well, I haven't done anything wrong...have I?'

'What's going to happen to us?'

A groan pulled her from her from her worrying. She gasped and leaned over to gently touch the Major's arm. "Will? Are you alright? Will?" Brown eyes blinked swiftly only to be scrunched tightly shut against the onslaught of sunset light. He slowly, weakly, brought his hand up to his face and leaned back into the padded driver's seat.

He moaned in pain as he felt along the clean slice tearing from his right ear to just above the temple, drawing it back to stare at the shining colour staining his hand. Surprisingly, he didn't panic. Or scream. Or have any reaction at all, really.

He just sat there, still as a marble statue.

Mikaela pushed forward, applying a bit more pressure to his arm, trying to draw his gaze. "Will? It's me Mikaela! Can you hear me?" He looked around for a moment, trying to locate the unclear noise and lands on her hand touching his arm.

Old battle training forced him to flinch back, only to relax once his eyes trailed up to a recognizable face.

"Mmmmnnnn... 'kaela? Where-"He paused, staring through the broken window on Mikaela's side into the darkening expanse of the dusk sky. He turned to look out his window, quickly moving back once eying the solid ground thousands of feet below.

"I-I feel..." He couldn't finish his sentence before drawing a large, thin breath of air into his straining lungs. He coughed roughly, body rattling from the force of his heaves. All the while Mikaela rubbed his back to sooth the pain, not knowing how to help.

When the bout of choking subsided, Will again raised his head and stared out the shattered windshield. Or what was left of it.

The scenery changed, fading from green, to light brown and finally aquamarine as the ground below was replaced with water.

"Mikaela, where are we? What's going on?" he asked, confused to the point of speeding his heart rate up a considerable amount.

Mikaela shook her head. She couldn't answer that. She didn't know what was real and what was her imagination. The collision had tossed her unconscious too, she just happened to wake up first.

"Quiet fleshbags. Be silent." They jumped, startled by a loud, deep and clearly aggravated growl.

"Where-?" Lennox started.

"I said QUIET! Or are you organic minds to inferior to understand a basic demand?"

They both fell silent, not wanting to anger the only thing preventing them from becoming no more than a debris riding the waves far below.

"Besides-"the voice continued with venom lacing his tone "we're here. Lucky you." Astrotrain chuckled evilly at the expressions of confusion, surprise and more than a little fear marring their scratched faces. He banked hard, harder than necessary and cackled as the terrified humans tussled about in their metal confinement.

Sending a signal to the reception tower protruding from the waters below, Astrotrain's flaps extended and he slowed for an approach.

A second, shorter tower rose from the waters. Peering into the darkly tinted glass at the top of the observation tower, the two humans strained to see the silhouette of a transformer standing amongst display screens and computers. The mech on duty in the tower glanced outside and looked the monitor in front of him. Symbols scrolled across the screen before he nodded to himself and pulled a large lever protruding from the wall beside his station.

A deep sound, like the horn from a battleship, resonated from speakers on the tower. Waves flowed against the current and began to curdle at the bases of the twin towers, bringing air down into the water and pushing large white waves outward.

The noise repeats and Mikaela stared in utter shock as an immense dark shape rose from the depths of the ocean. The exterior shell of the ship was interlocked and insect-like, no doubt stronger than any human made aircraft in existence. Water streams from the smooth, black hull in rivers and around the muzzles of missile launchers and the largest cannons Major Lennox had ever seen in his life.

As the belly of the ship breached the waters, tentacles writhed and coiled in the cool air like snakes with minds of their own.

Mikaela and Will were tossed violently backward when Astrotrain advanced forward into the ship through an open panel in the side plating. All around, strange mechs with red optics were mulling around, moving in and out of the landing bay. None looked up to greet the shuttle-former, but instead moved out of his way to avoid being pushed off a ledge and into the unforgiving ocean.

"Welcome insects, to the Nemesis." The cable released.

Zosimo laughed heartily at the look of shock streaming across the Prime's uncovered optics. Zosimo had hoped that in his surprise the larger mech would snap back his battle mask and let the black Decepticon see his full reaction. It was disappointing when Optimus did not, but that didn't take away from the cruel satisfaction Zosimo saw when he announced the Prime's name, a closely guarded and private secret.

The humans soldiers at their feet looked at each other in confusion, never having heard of an Autobot named Orion. Ironhide only growled in reaction, and directed a sharp "Shut up" in Zosimo's direction.

Zosimo chuckled and eyed Optimus up and down, sizing up the newcomer. He giggled to himself, the humans giving him looks questioning insanity.

"Why Orion, you seem... shorter than the last time I saw you. Have you lost weight?"

Optimus narrowed his icy optics and dug his blade harder against the infiltrator's neck cables. The others tensed when Zosimo let out a thin pained hiss, wincing. He then regained his smirk.

"What's wrong Prime? Ravage got your glossa?"

In a movement faster than Zosimo anticipated Optimus shot his free servo out and closed it around his bleeding neck. The enraged prime then shifted his weight to slam and hold the wriggling Panamera to the wall, but let up the pressure a bit when he felt a biting point pressed against an energon line in his side.

The two were in a stalemate. If Optimus squeezed, he could crush the neural cables of his captive but not fast enough to prevent the criminal from slicing vital cables and tubes with the military dagger in his grip. And if Zosimo was to cut, the humans and Autobot weapons specialist would shoot him down faster than he could shutter his optics and wonder where all the energon came from.

"Well," Zosimo started "make your choice. What will it be, cut out your tubing or crush my sensors? Make your choice before I make mine, if you please. I'm sure you'll like yours much better."

Optimus hadn't said a word during the whole exchange, and wasn't about to start speaking then. Instead he looked back to where Jazz had his servos pressed desperately to the flowing wound on Prowl's neck, and Ironhide guarding over them with his large cannons pointed at the black mech's spark chamber.

He was drawn back to his captive by the sound and feel of him clearing his intake. Optimus scowled at the playful glint in ruby optics that by all rights should not be there. "Well?"

Optimus felt along the other's neck until he felt a wire and pinched it between his fingertips. Zosimo shuddered at the touch and stiffened when the flame painted truck tugged on a neural wire. Optimus leaned a bit closer and Zosimo responded by leaning back into the wall, as if expecting it to swallow him whole.

Optimus drew his mask back from his face and the smaller mech whined when he tugged harder on the wire in his grip.

"I choose neither." Zosimo felt the wire disconnect with a sharp yank and his world was plunged into darkness, feeling something from within roar with rage before he was engulfed by silence.


	8. Chapter 8

All around, fog snaked its way around large pillars of metal jutting from an invisible ground. Bumblebee stepped forward, watching as pale mist rippled like water around his pedes. White noise buzzed through his audios, and he whirred in confusion.

"Where am I?" Bumblebee jolted in shock. His voice! His vocalizer was fixed, not even the slightest hint of static lacing the British accented tone. Instead of the joy he knew he should be feeling the only thing that welled up in Bumblebee's spark was dread.

"What is this? Am... am I dead?"

Loud booming chuckles echoed in the never ending landscape and a startled Bumblebee activated his T-cog. Nothing happened. Staring at his arm in surprise, he frantically tried to shift the plates on his arms and reveal his cannon. Again, he failed.

Bumblebee whimpered and started to shake, whirling his head and body in every direction trying to locate the unseen entity.

"Peace, little one." The deep and surprisingly comforting voice hummed. "I mean no harm. You are safe here, but I regret to say not for long. You are needed elsewhere."

Bumblebee relaxed under the soothing voice, and looked up at the mass of swirling light above his helm. The light danced and swirled lazily around a single burning orb, illuminating the area. Bumblebee watched in fascination, colours of red, blue and gold orbiting their way around the glowing star-like presence then darting off in random directions. Whispers breezed into Bumblebee's audios, as if pulling his attention their will.

His gaze stopped on the largest of the metal spires, and to the glowing symbols engraved in its silver expanse. He stepped forward, mist swirling high begin him. Unaware of his movements, he raised his servo to brush against smooth metal, digits tracing the grooves carved deep into its surface. So clear, unscathed and pure. Bumblebee forced his hand away, careful not to mar the structure's beauty.

"No, young one. Please continue, and listen to your ancestor's guidance. You can hear them, I know. There are things you must soon learn, Bumblebee. And it is imperative you understand your role in events to come."

"H-how do you know my name?' Bumblebee stuttered.

"I have watched over you since your creation and beyond, little one. But I fear for your future, and the future of your race. Please, look once more into the light and tell me what you see."

Bumblebee pressed his servo to the pillar again, and asked "What will I see?"

A jolt of electricity suddenly ran wild through his systems, causing his vision to white out and him to shout in surprise and slight pain.

"Destiny, my child-"The voice whispered. "Destiny."

Two mechs fought, blurred by shadows flowing around their moving bodies. Purple flashes of light break the darkness as one mech falls into the depths of darkness. The victor turns to Bumblebee, and slowly walked towards him. Shadows still covering the face of the mech, Bumblebee growled a warning and went on the offensive. He gasped when the mech lunged and went right through his chassis to collide with something behind him.

He turned to the sound of wheezing and a gory scene materialized around him. Bodies upon brutalized bodies were stacked high on demolished streets, burning fiercely as if doused with gasoline. Embers flew into the dark smoking sky, transformers of all sizes and factions warred among the carcasses of slain humans. Parents were shot in the crossfire and killed before the eyes of their children, ripping away their young innocence. Like Bumblebee's was.

Bumblebee hissed an intake of air as a familiar quadruped passed through his legs. The dark mechanical feline roared and pounced on running humans, ripping limbs and tearing arteries raining crimson blood onto the battlefield. Bumblebee's optics widened with pain and fear, air vents whirling to draw in cool air for his terrified systems.

The image faded and was replaced with the faces of his friends and enemies, all one by one fading into the darkness. He saw Megatron and his faithful third overlooking the destruction of a massive city and millions of lives, Lazerbeak lazily gliding circles around the two. The vulture squawked and banked towards the city as a third figure joined the two on the cliff overlooking the area. They stared smugly at a cowering Autobot sparkling curled and whimpering at their feet, coolant streaming in rivers down its dirty cheek plates. He felt his spark twinge in memory of himself in such a position, and the terror he had felt.

"N-no. Run. Run!" He tried to yell, but no sound came from his straining vocalizer.

Bumblebees saw the mech of his nightmares turned reality smirk and leap from the edge, landing before the trembling metal child.

"P-please! Don't!"

He couldn't move, couldn't vent, couldn't prevent the crushing grip of clawed servos wrapping around the frail little body. Bumblebee couldn't even scream when the black monster bared its fangs and tore into the neck cables of the innocent wailing sparkling. Fragile plating cracked and tubes ruptured when the monster squeezed, cascading pink energon onto the ground. Bumblebee's spark burned as the Decepticon locked optics with him.

"Stop! Stop it! Let him go! Release him! Please!"

Keeping his gaze, red optics burned with uncontrolled glee when claws ripped open the little one's chest plates. The sparkling mewled weakly, barely alive. Bumblebee regained use of his voice as his attacker rose the limp sparkling's chest to his face. Bumblebee's chest burned and he howled in his mind when Zosimo bared his denta and ravished the tiny spark within. He screamed.

Shuttering his optics Bumblebee collapsed to his knees and clamped his servos over his helm, trying to shut out the gruesome crime taking place.

"What do you want from me?!" He screamed. "Why are you torturing me?!"

His frame heaved with his panting, chassis shivering. Bumblebee felt the sparkling's pain as if it were his own. A calming servo placed itself on his quivering doorwings, which was promptly grabbed with a snarl from the distressed mech. The tall Cybertronian didn't move, didn't even flinch and held a look of pity in his optics gazing down on Bumblebee crouched to the ground.

Taking his time, Bumblebee blinked and looked around. The shining orb and tall metal spires had returned, but the symbols no longer glowed as they had before the terrible vision. The nearly transparent mech offered him a small smile and held out hiss servo to the traumatized scout.

Bumblebee grasped it firmly and hauled himself to his pedes.

"What... what was that?" He whispered. "What's going on exactly?" He desperately pulled on the taller mech's golden chest, tugging him down so their faces were level.

"Why have you brought me here?" He yelled, losing his composure to anger. "How many questions do I have to ask you before you fragging answer me?!" Bumblebee panted, fans humming to cool his overheated body.

The calm mech slowly raised his servos and lightly brought Bumblebee's hands down, as if dealing with a frightened youngling. Bumblebee surely felt like a youngling, although he was nearly into his mech vorns.

"Hush, little one. It's alright. Nothing will harm you here. Settle down" It reasoned.

"Settle down? Settle down!? You show me these horrible things and you expect me to be okay with it? Well guess what you fragger, I want to know what's going on and I want to know NOW!"

The golden and ivory mech sighed, releasing Bumblebee's shaking arms.

"You cannot know, not yet. Just know that this future can be avoided if you can find it in your spark to forgive."

"Forgive? Forgive who? That mech! Why would I forgive him, he could have... could have-"

The mech faded and a heavenly shine brightened everything in sight into a blinding white.

"You will understand eventually, young Bumblebee. He will need you, and if you cannot find it in your spark to change the future you and your friends will suffer. Now go, it's time to wake up."

"Wait! Tell me what I need to do! How can I change that?"

"It's time to wake up."

"That's it Bee, that's it. Take it nice and slow."

Bumblebee groaned, lifting a servo to press against his throbbing helm. Only to find it wouldn't move. He opened his optics in confusion and looked to his side. His arms and legs were restrained to the berth in large clamps. Bumblebee panicked, shrieking and shrinking back from the cold servos holing him down to the berth.

'Claws trailed down his sides, teasing sensors and tweaking wires along the way.'

"Bumblebee!" The gruff voice pleaded. "Bee please, calm down! He's not here, he can't hurt you!"

"What's goin' on in 'ere?" The deep rumbling growl sounded close and Bumblebee shrieked in fear, trying to get away from the unwelcome pair of servos that joined the first to hold down his thrashing legs.

'A warm servo stroked lower... lower...pressing and firmly rubbing his cod-piece, causing him to sob at the feel of unwanted pleasure polling in his pelvis. A smooth voice chuckled and Bumblebee cried out when fangs ran softly down his neck, nibbling on sensitive wires.'

Bumblebee let out a sob and felt coolant pooling in his optics and spill over onto his face. "L-let go! P-please don't do this!"

"Calm down Bee! We don't want to hurt you! Jolt! He's panicking; get me two liters of sedative. Hurry!"

'My, what beautiful plating you have, I wonder how it tastes...'

Bumblebee wailed and bucked the mech holding him down off the berth.

"Optimus! Get your aft in here! I can't hold him down long enough to get a clear injection. He trusts you!"

A familiar comfort washed over him and Bumblebee fell limp, struggling in a weak and feeble attempt to break his binds. He opened his watery optics, staring into the deep blue of Optimus's.

"It's alright Bumblebee. I'm here now; the Decepticon is locked up far away. I've got you." He said, trying to calm his frantic youngling.

Ratchet grunted at the dent he received in his arm from the fall but got back to his feet and stumbled over to the berth controller. Nodding once to Optimus he took a risk and released Bumblebee from the berth. The scout immediately jolted into the Prime's arms, heaving with every spark wrenching sob. The prime hummed an old Cybertronian lullaby to him, like when he was a sparkling woken from his battle filled nightmares.

Optimus looked at Ratchet who slowly and carefully approached the two from behind, staying well out of Bumblebee's sight. The Camaro's sensors were too overwhelmed to sense the medic creeping from behind, listening to the sweet nothings his guardian whispered him.

Bumblebee felt a pinprick at the back of his neck and flinched, imagining fangs nicking a wire. To his dismay, his frame's temperature went up a little at the thought of the dark mech's denta grazing his receptive cables.

In the arms of his guardian, Bumblebee fell into an uneasy recharge with his dark attacker on his mind. Not about what the mech did, but how something so wrong could feel so right.

'My sweet little Bumblebee...'

"Fifty five cubes of high grade on the wall. Fifty five cubes of high grade! Frag around, chug it all down. Fifty four cubes of high grade on the wall!"

Mudflap groaned in frustration, throwing his plasma rifle to the ground and glaring a hole in the cheerfully singing Decepticon cuffed to the far wall of the brig cell. Zosimo giggled and waved a clawed servo at the fuming orange mini.

"Yo, psycho! You crazy man! The 'Cons must be pretty desperate to be using a screwed up glitch like you!"

Zosimo laughed. "Says the mech that can't even read his own language!" Zosimo broke down laughing at Mudflap's scrunched faceplates. His lime green twin Skids sighed and placed down his own rifle to the side of the cell.

"He's just baiting' you bro. Ignore him and he'll shut up eventually."

Mudflap grumbled. "Somethin' ain't right with this one, bro. He just gives me the creeps you know?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Skids replied. "But the glitch's tied up real good this time, and he would never get passed us right?"

"I guess..."

"Well then, there you go. We could always pop a shot in his helm and nobody would have to know nothin', right?" Skids said, sounding reasonable to his annoyed twin. Mudflap nodded and with another sigh picked up his weapon, turning his helm to stick out his glossa at an amused Zosimo.

"Don't stick it out if you aren't going to use it, tangerine." He cackled at the horrified and disgusted looks on both of their faces.

"You sick man!" Skids growled.

"Yeah!" His brother joined in. "You probably wouldn't know what to do with it anyway stupid 'Con. I bet that's why you jumped poor Bumblebee!"

An eerie snarl spread over Zosimo's lips, previous humor gone, and optics darkening to an angry burgundy. Skids noticed the aggressive change and elbowed Mudflap in the side.

"Uhh bro? I think you ought to stop now. You-you showed him, now let's get on with our shift. Okay? Bro?"

Mudflap went on with a grin, ignoring his brother's warning.

"Yeah, I bet you couldn't even please those dirty murderers back at your base right? They sent you out here 'cus they wanted to get rid of your sorry aft. I bet you were so frustrated over your failed interface life that you had to take it out on Bee!"

Zosimo was shaking with rage now, claws clenching and flexing into fists. He growled low like a beast. "Do you want to test that theory out, Autobot? I'm sure I won't... disappoint."

Mudflap howled with laughter stepping closer to the glowing bars of the small cell, just beyond the reach of Zosimo's chain.

"Dude, Mudflap! C'mon man, you've had your fun. Shift's over, let's go get our energon. Mudflap batted off Skids insistent servos yanking on his arm. Zosimo was panting with restrained rage, tensing up to pounce on the mech and put him in his place.

"Hah! Like I'm gunna frag around with a dirty 'Con like you! Even an innocent virgin like Bumblebee was grossed out by you! Your puny spike couldn't please a drone if your function depended on it!" Mudflap made the potentially fatal move of taking another step forward.

Zosimo's resolve snapped and he lunged, thrusting his servos through the bars and held the orange mech in a death grip on his throat. He hefted the smaller mech up and bared his fangs in the other's face, squeezing harder on the other's cables. Mudflap choked, coughing in the strong hold. In the background Skids could be heard calling Optimus Prime over the comm. link, but Zosimo leaned forward to hiss in the mini's prominent audio.

"Speak about my Bumblebee like that again, and you'll be on you back on the floor pleading for me to stop as I tear you apart from the inside out! Then we'll see how your valve fares against my puny spike, won't we?"

Zosimo's voice had changed from the attractive smooth roll to a rasping growl in seconds, as if it were another mech speaking all together. He constricted around Mudflap's neck, completely cutting off his intake. Mudflap's optics had widened in alarm, vents struggling to draw in air and his systems began to overheat.

"I said, WON"T WE!"

"That's quite enough. Release him, Zosimo. NOW."

Optimus Prime stood behind the two, Skids cowering from the scene behind his legs. Zosimo snarled and immediately released his grip, slinking backward into the shadows of his cell. Bright ruby optics burned in the dark, the only sign anything was in the cell at all.

Mudflap scrambled back from the bars, grasping his neck and taking huge gulps of air through his free intake. His back hit Optimus's legs and he slowly lifted his gaze up to his leader's face. But Optimus was not concerned with his subordinate that moment, he was instead tracking the pacing movements of the ebony mech that had nearly violated his youngling. Something was not right with that mech, and Optimus was willing to hold off his prisoner's charge until he understood Zosimo's mind.

Which becoming increasingly difficult every time the two met. As was understanding the strange feeling in his spark from the Matrix every time the two locked optics.

"You two go. I'll take next shift. Help the humans down by the construction site, if you please. I will speak with you both later."

The twins obeyed the commanding tone, scurrying off down the corridor. Optimus continued watching the pacing mech, acknowledging the predatory glint in his optics.

"Hello Orion. Come to wreck my fun I see."

Optimus grunted. "If you could call harassing my soldiers fun, yes I suppose I did."

Zosimo growled."Harassing them? It was the other way around, I can assure you Prime."

"I suppose you can."

Silence fell between the two and the red optics sank low as Zosimo sat on the floor against the far back wall directly across from the semi. The silence was broken about half an hour later, all traces of anger and the constant growl gone from Zosimo's voice.

"How... how's Bumblebee?"

Optimus narrowed his optics in confusion and a bit of frustration. What was the Decepticon's strategy, what did the rapist have to gain from the condition of his victim?

"Why do you ask?"

Zosimo made an up and down motion, probably shrugging.

"Just wondering..."

The tension in the air could be cut with a knife, but was instead sliced by Optimus's steady answer.

"Bumblebee is stable. He awoke earlier in a panic, so our medic gave him some sedatives to keep away the nightmares. He is-"

"Nightmares? Of what?"

"Of what importance is that to you?" Optimus questioned, a bit annoyed at being interrupted answering the mech's question.

" ...Nothing. Just thinking." Zosimo said whimsically. "So, what's going to happen to me?"

Optimus gazed down for a moment. What indeed.

"One of our own, a psychologist named Smokescreen, has been detected making his way to Earth. He passed Mars not too long ago. You will be analyzed and diagnosed by him first before any decisions are made. In the mean time, you will be confined to this cell indefinitely." He turned to walk away, Ironhide standing off at the side ready to replace him standing guard over the clearly insane mech.

"W-wait!" Zosimo stuttered. "Y-you'll tell me about Bumblebee, right?"

Optimus looked back. "Do you honestly think you deserve to know about him? After what you almost did. You very well could have traumatized him for life."

Optimus kept his appearance placid, while inside his mind was reeling. A tear had made its way down Zosimo's faceplates and dropped to splash lightly against the concrete floor. One caused the overflow of others and a quiet hiccup hitched the ebony mech's systems.

"I didn't mean it." Zosimo whispered. "I j-just wanted..." He fell silent and dropped his helm against his drawn up knees. The cell dropped into darkness and Optimus stood with more questions emerging than he was ready to gain answers for.

Like what was wrong with the mech that so openly regretted his actions, yet continued to cause violence.

And more importantly, why the Matrix wanted him to comfort the forlorn creature.


	9. Chapter 9

Zosimo hated guns. How they looked, how they sounded, how heavy they were, and how it felt to be shot with one. Why use a gun that would require reloading when your own servos were far superior weapons of destruction.

But what he hated most about guns was how they felt shoved firmly between his shoulder plates.

"Hold still you little punk!" Ironhide grumbled. All amusement from seeing Zosimo squirm had bled away when his claws had sliced a rip clean through the barrel of his favorite handheld blaster. When Optimus had left to deal with the twin's foolish antics, the weapon's specialist was just fine standing at attention in front of the homicidal maniac's cell. He had been happy to help.

That was before Ratchet came marching in, all professional, scowling and scrolling through a datapad in his hand. The medic grumbled obscurities in their native tongue under his breath, drawing the attention of both guard and prisoner. Looking up Ratchet stopped beside the bigger mech and gazed apprehensively into the still dark cell.

"Why haven't the lights been fixed yet? They've been off for weeks." His cyan optics moved to Ironhide, a deep frown plastered on his face.

"Better yet, why is he still in there? Couldn't you have, I don't know, moved him?" He scolded. "It's one thing to have a dangerous Decepticon chained to a wall without medical sedation, but to have a dangerous Decepticon chained to a wall in the dark is just plain stupid!"

"Jeez, calm down Ratch'. This is the only cell with bars thick enough that he can't reach around and claw at the number pad. Once I get off, I'll be sure to inform the human mechanics about the problem. No biggie."

Ratchet huffed, brushing him off. He crossed his arms and faced the darkness of the cell, satisfied with initialing a staring contest with the deranged mech sulking against the wall. Those optics... they held something inside, a certain curiosity and innocence buried underneath loathing, anger and what Ratchet could only describe as pure guilt. That last emotion threw the medic for a loop.

'Why would he be feeling...'

Ratchet yelped in fright as strong black arms wrapped snugly around his waist, drawing him back against a purring chest. He turned his helm, disbelief running through him at the teasing glint shining in his mate's optics. He growled, reaching back to slap his servo against Ironhide's shoulder.

"You aft! Let go!" Pleasant vibrations rumbled against his back as Ironhide chuckled. He pressed his helm against his the back of his medic's, smiling to himself.

"Why so defensive?" He purred, stoking an arm. Ratchet wriggled in his hold, batting away a wandering servo trailing downward with his datapad.

"Ironhide! There is a prisoner, not to mention a rapist staring at us and you can't manage to keep your servos to yourself for two minutes!? Let me go!"

Ironhide pouted. "You're no fun"

"And you're a trigger happy pervert." Ratchet retorted, finally breaking his mate's hold. He glared when he caught sight of light glinting off a smirking Zosimo's fangs. 'Little slagger.'

He sighed and shoved the pad almost aggressively in Ironhide's direction. Curious Ironhide took it, scanning over the text. His optic arches rose.

"A full medical exam, by order of Optimus Prime. Hmm."

"Yes. Which means, my friend, you have the honor of restraining the big bad Decepticon long enough to haul him down to the med bay."

Ironhide flinched back, shocked.

"Are you out of your mind? Bumblebee, Prowl and not to mention Jazz are still down there and you want to bring this sorry son of a glitch down there so he can hurt them again? Nuh uh. No way. "

Ratchet was getting sick and tired of scowling.

"I am well aware of that, smartaft. Which is why I'm having you restrain him, Optimus guard the others and the private isolation room blocked off from any unauthorized entry. I'm not stupid, you now."

"I know Ratch', but really? He could have killed you last time. If you think I'm gunna let him get anywhere near you again... No. Just, no."

Ratchet huffed. "It'll be fine Hide, we'll be careful. You'll be there with me."

"That's not the point! Can't you do the exam down here, away from the others?"

"Do you see any scanners down here Hide? Any of my equipment? I could do a physical at best, but with you watching to make sure he doesn't hurt me we're breaching protocol."

"P-protocol? When have I ever given a slag about protocol when it comes to you? I don't want you near him, end of story. Goodbye. The end."

"You're so immature, it's just-"

Ironhide grabbed Ratchet's servo firmly. "I don't want to lose you to some Decepticon punk that's too confident for his own good."

Ratchet withered, placing his palm against his bondmate's cheek and stroked his thumb gently underneath the begging optic.

"C'mon Hide. Me, taken down by him? You underestimate my skills. The sooner we do this the sooner I can-"

He rubbed the weapon master's chest cables, tickling seams.

"-put your mind at ease."

Ironhide slumped, giving him a small grin. "Alright, I just worry. I can't help it, I love you too much."

Ratchet hummed, moving his faceplates closer. "I would have you any other way."

They came closer, Ratchet's optics shuttering. It was a perfect moment. He could feel hot air being blown across his lips, pressing their foreheads together. He brushed the ridge of his nose along Ironhide's, moving closer to-

"Oi! I'm still here you know! Either take me to the med bay or get a slagging room already! You're going to make me purge!"

The perfect moment flew out the window.

Ironhide growled. "I'm putting two pairs of stasis cuffs on him. Just to be safe."

So there he was pressing Zosimo's face plates hard into the floor. Zosimo snarled, kicking back and causing Ironhide to grunt when it collided with an old wound on his leg.

"If you cooperated, this would be done so much faster!"

Zosimo snorted. "If you think I'm going to make this easy for you, think again rust heap!"

Ironhide growled, a dirty move crossing his mind. Reaching down, he pressed his free servo against Zosimo's neck and leaned over.

"Either you stop moving or I'll make sure you never lay eyes on Bumblebee again, understand. NEVER."

Zosimo froze, limbs stiff against the floor. He cast his crimson gaze down and bared his fangs.

"That's not up to you. You can't-"

Ironhide pressed harder, drawing out a hiss of pain. "No-" he agreed "I can't. But Optimus sure can. Want me to talk to him about it?"

Zosimo growled, earning a harder push of the blaster.

"I'm sure we both know what his answer will be, aren't you?"

Zosimo snarled angrily, but Ironhide felt the telltale loosening of the muscle cables in his captives back. Ironhide grabbed his servos, only applying minute pressure to snap the stasis cuffs closed over the dark mech's wrists.

"That's what I thought."

Getting to his feet, Ironhide pulled a feebly struggling Zosimo up. Keeping a concrete grip on his arm, the two shuffled out of the tiny cell to move down the corridor. Dim lights led the way, weaving through hallways that gradually got wider and taller. Armed soldiers fell in behind and along the pair, guns cocked and ready to fire should Zosimo change his mind about being compliant. White walls met a metal hanger door, which sled up slowly to let the fist peek of daylight Zosimo had seen in days shine from behind. When it had fully retracted Ironhide nudged Zosimo forward to step into the sunlight.

Zosimo shuttered his optics rapidly, blinking away dark spots the sudden brightness brought to his vision. He gazed around the tarmac, jets, jeeps and everything in between parked to his far left. Soldiers marched in groups, moving from hanger to hanger.

Zosimo sneered, amused by how their movements reminded him of an ant hive. At least the two species shared something in common.

He stumbled forward, regaining his balance after a harsh shove. He growled, every step gliding silently over the ground. The ever quiet grace installed shivers of cold fear through following humans. Their instincts labeled him as a threat instantly, his animalistic nature spooking them to near panic. As Ironhide led the Decepticon across the compound, Zosimo spotted the two mechs that had taunted and laughed at him earlier. He smirked, prepared to have what little fun he could.

The two flinched as he approached, glancing at each other warily. They shuddered at his grin, optics cast away in submission. As he passed, Zosimo jerked towards the pair, as if to pounce like a wildcat on a pair of field mice. They yelped and fell back, landing with a crash on their afts.

Zosimo cackled, even when Ironhide gave a warming rumble. "None of that, or I'll knock you out and sent you on a one way trip to the pit."

Zosimo continued to laugh in his mirth, until they halted in front of a large complex far more massive than his prison. Rows of hanger doors bore numbers in white paint, clashing with the lustre of the retracting doors and dark gray walls. Ironhide nodded to a human at their pedes, who turned to enter a code into a keypad Zosimo could assume to be door lock. He took the few seconds as an opportunity to take in his surroundings, eager to register every detail that could help in an escape.

Without turning his helm, Zosimo spotted the light reflecting off a vent cover, but it was not the one he had used to originally get into the building, the only one large enough for him to squeeze into.

The perimeter fences were far in the distance, too far to survive a break for it. Cameras lined every wall, covering every nook and cranny until no corner was unseen.

'Funny' Zosimo thought bitterly. 'It takes a break in to convince them they needed to up security.'

Noise drew him from his observations, the door painted with a large "4" drawing up and away. They moved inside and immediately moved to the right, but Zosimo wouldn't move. His frame was still, stiff and motionless. Through a pair of sliding doors that had opened for the chartreuse medic the general medbay was revealed. As was the figure of a yellow winged scout lying in recharge, whimpering on his side.

A long, wavering whine escaped Zosimo's vocal processers before he could subdue it.

"Bee..."

He tried to step forward, pulling sharply in Ironhide's hold, trying to get closer. Ratchet's optic's narrowed and he motioned for his mate to drag the struggling mech into an adjacent room. Zosimo whimpered and clicked, pulling hard enough for Ironhide's pedes to screech loudly against the floor, leaving black streaks behind.

Sparks flew as Zosimo managed to take a step forward, and another, and another. Ratchet backed away, yelling out to someone to get help. Zosimo couldn't understand what the yelling meant, what they were screaming about.

His mind focused solely on Bumblebee, unaware of the purple bleeding into his optic lenses. Coolant flooded down his cheeks and for once the ever present entity, the very thing that made him what he was, agreed with his emotion.

How could he have done this, to him? Bumblebee wasn't just some drone or ex-human he could beat, frag, kill, then resort to feed from. Why was it so convinced Zosimo would let it do the same to Bumblebee? He couldn't let it change how he felt. Apparently for the first time ever, it felt the same way. But why now?

Zosimo pulled more insistently, outright growling and panting in his efforts to reach the scout. "Let me go. I need to see him! I need to tell him..."

"Oh no," Ironhide yelled. "You're coming with ME."

Zosimo cried out in anger, desperation and frustration. Almost breaking his wrist joint he yanked with all his strength. It was enough to break free.

Falling forward he caught himself and stumbled, ignoring Ratchet standing protectively between him and the medbay. Heavy steps echoed through the halls and Zosimo's spark pulsed, familiar loathing blocking out his conscious. Purple faded, and crimson was restored to his lenses. He stopped and straightened himself, catching his emotions before they got out of hand.

'No... no get a hold of yourself. He hates you and you hate him. He'll run at the first sight of you and never come back. He'll leave you just like last time.' Zosimo shuttered his optics and backtracked until he was before the isolation room door. "Don't worry Orion. I'll play nice; you don't need to hold me against any more walls. People might start saying things-"

"Silence." Optimus ordered. "Go with Ratchet and Ironhide willingly. NOW. If you ever want the opportunity to explain yourself to me or Smokescreen you need to cooperate, or I will not hesitate to carry out your sentence right here, right now."

Zosimo snorted. "What happened to freedom being the right of all sentient beings? You have no right to keep me here, or breach my privacy with this exam." He smirked. "Megatron won't be pleased when he hears about this, I can assure you."

Optimus stepped forward, not intimidated for one second by the thinly veiled threat. Zosimo tipped his helm up, not backing down from the dominant flare coming from his opponent's field.

"Let us make one thing perfectly clear, Decepticon." Optimus spoke hard with control. "What your leader cares about is power, it's all he cares about now. You are giving him power over you by letting him control you this way, which is why I do not fear you. I pity you. If you consent to this exam, then I will listen to your story. Until then, as of now you will never get the chance to speak with Bumblebee. Even if you go through with this there is still the possibility I feel you deserve death."

Optimus nodded his head is a quick tilt, Ironhide once again gripping Zosimo's arm to lead him away.

"One more thing," The pair stopped and the Prime locked eyes with the monster inside. "You lost the right to your freedom when you fell to the urge of hurting my son. Think on that."

With that he walked into the general med bay, sliding doors closing behind him.

Ratchet sighed and motioned the two to follow him into isolation.

The room itself was nothing special. Like the med bay, the ceiling was painted a horrid orange colour that Zosimo assumed was supposed to be comforting. For him it just made him feel nauseous. The walls were blank gray, cabinets and stainless steel counters clean and orderly, along with high definition monitors mounted along one side, flat berth with heavy duty restraints on the other. 'How quaint.'

He was ushered cautiously forward onto the berth. "Now are you going to cooperate or does Ironhide have to manhandle you onto the berth too?"

Zosimo grunted. "If you take these cuffs off and let me sit down in a dignified manner, I'll consider it."

Ironhide sniffed. "You'll be bolted to the berth either way. Don't-" He tugged Zosimo's arms harder than what was needed to make a point. "-pull anything stupid."

Zosimo sneered but got on the berth regardless, arms and leg restraints automatically engaging to lock securely in place. He gave an experimental tug, but stopped when he say Ironhide glowering at him. He relaxed, tipping his helm back and to the side to watch Ratchet gather some equipment.

"Now," The medic began, "We'll start with your helm and work our way down. Don't make me have to weld your mouth shut in case you bite me. Only Ironhide can do that."

"Damn right." The gruff mech chuckled.

Zosimo groaned, knocking his helm back on the berth. "Could you please keep those sorts of things to yourself? My young audios are damaged enough already." Ironhide grumbled under his breath. Something about that not being the only damaged thing on the disgusted mech. Ratchet on the other hand, wore a look of puzzlement.

"Just how old are you?"

Zosimo didn't answer, glancing uncomfortably between the bondmates, unwilling to say anything. Silence resonated through the room as Ratchet gingerly examined the spiked audios and jagged denta on a still helm. Ratchet let out a heavy intake of air, picking up a stethoscope and placing the cool tip lightly against Zosimo's ebony armour. He moved it around pressing different areas, only stopping every once and a while to ask for a deep intake from his uneasy patient. He hummed, placing the medical tool back in a drawer before facing his mate.

"Hide can you give us a moment alone please? And no-" He warned, seeing his mate open his mouth to protest. "Arguing with me."

Ironhide slumped but complied, giving Zosimo a deep threatening growl. He then turned and left the two, blurry shadow visible through the door's tinted glass. Ratchet chuckled, amused when the young mech on the berth visibly relaxed.

"Don't worry. His bark is far worse than his bite, unless you get on his bad side."

He leaned over Zosimo, voice serious. "Zosimo, I wouldn't be asking you if it wasn't in your best interests. Please, just how old are you? "

"I... I'm not sure. Older than your scout, but not as old as that blue one that sedated me earlier. Why?"

"Your vents, they're rapid like you're overheated. You may have a virus in you systems."

Zosimo laughed, an empty sound holding no glee. "I guess you could call it that." He turned his helm. "Don't think about it too long, it's normal for me."

Ratchet grudgingly accepted the answer. "What is 'it'? You keep saying that, but you haven't said what it is."

Zosimo licked his lips nervously, running his glossa over his fangs. "N-nothing important."

"Are you sure? I am a doctor, no matter what faction my patients are from. I took an oath before the war and I don't intent to break it now."

Zosimo locked optics with the medic, who stalled at the pure emotion radiating from them.

"I'm sure. Can... can we get this over with."

"Alright, but if you feel the need to say anything, I won't tell a single soul."

"Yeah yeah, okay. I got it old mech."

Ratchet continued the exam, pausing to ask if something hurt or didn't feel right. "Your frame design... I've never seen anything like it. Where were you sparked youngling?"

Zosimo growled, baring his teeth. "I am NOT a youngling, old timer. Believe me when I say I don't know! If I did, I know I wouldn't tell you!" He began to pull at his restraints, conveying his frustration.

Ratchet huffed, crossing his arms. "Don't make me sedate you, youngling. I mean it."

Zosimo flinched, angrily slumping against the berth top.

"Oh don't give me that look." He said catching the glowering glare cast his way.

Turning his back to the Decepticon, Ratchet milled through the drawers. When he turned back he held a syringe filled with a strange blue liquid and advanced on the berth. Zosimo struggled, snarling like an animech.

"Hey! You said-"

"I didn't say anything about not sedating you, just that you shouldn't make me." The needle sank into neck cables, ejecting the fluid straight into the feral mech's energon lines. It took effect almost instantly, crimson optics powering off as forced recharge took him.

Now Ratchet could begin the sensitive examinations, mainly scanning the interior and making sure everything was okay... 'below the belt.' When it came to scanning the fuel intake systems, Ratchet was forced to do a double take. He leaned forward, optics squinting to make sure he wasn't seeing things.

"What the frag..." He mumbled.

He paused the scan on Zosimo's fuel tank and immediately changed readings to examine the spark chamber.

"Holy Primus... Ironhide!"

The doors flew open at his shout, his mate's gun heated to shoot.

"What? Did he hurt you!?"

"NO! Put that thing away and get Optimus. There's something he needs to see. NOW."

Mikaela shivered in the dark of Shockwave's shadow. The cyclops stood off to the side, fiddling with what appeared to be a large robotic worm wriggling on the tabletop. It twittered and clicked as he stroked its length with a finger tip, nibbling lightly in a claw. His other arm did not end in a hand, but instead an intricate barrel stretched to nearly touch the floor by his pedes. All around, chemicals glowed exotic colours and gave off outlandish smells. She looked up, peering through holes poked through the lid of her glass prison. Now she knew how it felt to be a butterfly trapped in a jar. And she did not enjoy it.

"Hey you!" She yelled. "Where's Will! What have you done to him?" She banged her fist against the glass, trying to get the attention of the large purple mech.

"It is illogical to continue doing that, little insect." A gravelly voice spoke. "You are just succeeding in harming yourself. It is most counterproductive, don't you think?"

She continued slapping the glass, attacking it from all angles, systematically trying to find a weak point.

"But by all means continue. Your increasingly unstable behavior amuses me greatly."

Not willing to give the mech what he wanted she sat down cross-legged and folded her arms in a huff, disregarding how like a child she must have looked. Without turning around the assassin laughed quietly. "Good pet."

Mikaela's face twisted in a grimace, her hands throbbing with pain. Maybe beating glass that must have been inches thick hadn't been such a good idea.

Mikaela sniffed. "Were you talking to me or the Mongolian Death Worm on steroids?"

"I was speaking to Driller actually. She has grown much since our arrival; soon she will have reached the length of 91.44 meters. Do not concern yourself, however, with the other flesh bag's disappearance. I just so happen to require him for a few... tests."

"We are not just lab rats to experiment with! What are you doing to him, let him go!"

"If I see fit to treat you as a turbo-rat then I shall, regardless of what you want." He growled. Picking up the squirming animal he placed it in a small cage that appeared a wee bit too small for the growing creature.

"Funny," Mikaela mocked." I wouldn't have pegged the Decepticons as animal abusers along with raping murderers."

Shockwave's mandibles clicked confusedly."It is not common practice for interfacing to be taken lightly or to that level in the Decepticon ranks. Nobody likes punishment. And I am not abusing my pet, that imbecile Astrotrain has not completed her new cage yet." He turned his single glowing optic on her. "I hear he has been busy lately."

Mikaela scoffed. 'The nerve...'

"Then explain to me why that crazy son of a bitch that broke into the Autobot's base violated Bumblebee!"

The assassin's chassis turned to face her and he crouched down to be at optic level with the human.  
"Zosimo just happens to be a special case, human." He rumbled. "Very special indeed."

Although she was terrified Mikaela pressed on with venom in her voice. "He's not special at all; he's just like every single one of you bastards."

"Quite the contrary actually. There are only a handful of others similar to him, and none share his mannerisms or special traits."

Mikaela stuttered. "O-others? What others?"

"That-" Shockwave growled. "Is none of your concern. Tell me human, his optics... what colour were they?"

"Is this a trick question?"

Shockwave hissed. "Answer the question fleshling, and you might see your comrade again."

"Alright! Alright! They were red, you happy?"

Shockwave rumbled. "Immensely."

Mikaela's eyebrows met in confusion. "Wh-what was so important about that?"

"Not that your primitive mind would be able to understand, but let's just say that your friends have no idea what, or rather who, they are getting into."

"What!? What is that supposed to mean? Who is he, really?"

Shockwave smirked, or what Mikaela could read from the perking of his mandibles.

"Just an old companion of yours."

He stepped towards a door, switching off the lights on his way out. Over his shoulder he said "Hopefully the Allspark will see fit to spare their lives."

He laughed cruelly. "But I wouldn't count on it."


	10. Chapter 10

The air was stuffy and humid, as if a breeze from a rainforest had somehow slipped its way through cracks and crevices to emerge in the large laboratory. Sam's lungs struggled to take a breath, the moistness choking him like a noose during execution. His petrified eyes darted this way and that, drawn to each shiver and the patter of metal paws against glass. Scratches and loud hisses echo in the dark, mismatched substances the only glowing light in the deep black.

Sam was in an abyss, sinking ever farther into his fading hope for rescue. But it had been a long time since he could bring himself to truly believe his friends would come to his aid. To believe they even missed him at all. If they noticed or cared at all.

He shivered despite the heat, wrapping his sweat dampened arms around himself. 'Optimus, Jazz, Ratchet, Bumblebee... Anyone. Please, help me!'

His silent cries were not answered, save for the insistent clicking of a creature locked in a box on a separate examination table. What it held Sam did not know, nor did he have any intention of finding out. Its shrieks and rattling had continued for hours, at first frightening the boy who later decided to ignore it.

Sam winced as the side of his head throbbed. Barricade had been none to gentle with him, in fact Sam thought the Praxian had genuinely enjoyed his pain. When he fell in the street, the hard impact ringing his skull split his skin, sending rivulets of red down the side of his face. Over the last few days, the sharp pain had eased off and the blood had dried to mat his greasy hair.

'This isn't the time to be fantasizing about a shower, Witwicky. You should be thinking of a way to get out of this mess. '

But Sam knew there was no use. The jar was thick and impenetrable, with holes too small for more than a finger to taste freedom.

Heavy footfalls broke his muse, and he scrambled to stand. He refused to look weak in front of his captor. Even if that was how he felt. His heart thumped painfully in his chest, beating as if having pushed itself through a marathon. There it was again, the voice in the back of his mind. Speaking to him, reassuring him, telling him that everything would be alright. It was constantly comforting him, in a way only one other being could. But his guardian was not by his side this time. He wasn't there to play a soothing song, to tell a funny joke, to take his mind of the situation or to hold him to his chest. He wasn't there to tell him he loved him.

The door opened to reveal the imposing figure of the Lord High Protector, his loyal assassin by his side. As they stepped in, strips of light automatically brightened and Sam had to rub away the lingering dark spots in his vision to see the warlord sneering down at him. Three crimson optics burned a hole through his being and he could not decide which was worse, the warlord's smug gleam or the cold, emotionless shadows dancing in the single light hanging above his jagged shoulder.

"Well," Megatron began. "As much as I enjoy seeing you suffer, boy, it is time we unlock those secrets of yours. Don't you agree?"

His head turned as if in slow motion. Fear creeping up inside him, he stared with horrified and eyes at the ebony figure lying prone and bound to a horizontal upraised platform, dark, empty lenses staring back.

Ratchet hurried around the med bay, ignoring the way his strange patient writhed in his bonds. The door slid open and he let out a sigh of relief.

"You called?"

"Optimus, here, now!" His commander paused for only a moment before stepping closer to loom over the medic's shoulder, gazing curiously at the tools Ratchet's shaky digits struggled to grip. He looked beside him to Zosimo, small shakes and light growls ringing softly in the small room. His optic ridges drew down, and he padded closer to Ratchet.

"What is it Ratchet? Does he have a contagious virus?" he lightly joked. Surely if the Decepticon could taunt him the way he had earlier, he wasn't about to die within the next astrosecond. Although by now Optimus wasn't sure whether that was a bad thing or not.

He mentally slapped himself, stopping that train of thought. What was he thinking? Optimus went around scolding soldiers for accidentally stepping on ants and dishing out hour-long lectures about the importance of individuality for Primus' sake! What would his comrades think if they were to find out their Prime had pondered such dark things?

"-and I found... PRIME!"

He jumped at the snap, antenna falling slightly backward. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

The CMO growled lowly. "Honestly Prime" He started, setting aside his tools to tap furiously on the built-in keyboard in the counter, optics glued firmly on the data scrolling down the monitor. "There are enough morons on this base already; I don't need to add you to that list, do I?"

Optimus looked down sheepishly. Even after so many vorns, Ratchet never failed in reminding him that he would always be the little mechling sitting in the acid rain at his doorstep as far as the medic was concerned.

Stopping in his distracted movements Ratchet opened a cabinet and withdrew a strange green liquid in a glass bottle labeled in bold 'DO NOT TOUCH, OR ELSE! (That means you Sideswipe)'. Filling a syringe he finally turned to face Optimus.

"Look." He stepped aside and jerked his helm to a picture on the monitor. "Tell me what you see."

Optimus leaned forward, examining the image. It was a scan, supposedly of a Cybertronian's full chassis. All internal systems were there, optical, audio, energon calculation, the works.

"I see a normal, everyday youngling that has just entered adulthood. Is there something I should be looking for?"

He grunted, a servo grasping the back of his helm where he was just wacked. He winced, confused at the aggressive behavior of his former caretaker.

"Idiot! I would have thought you of all people could see there is something seriously wrong with this kid! Look at the spark scan." He ordered, pressing a few keys to change the image onscreen to show a bright spot in the center of Zosimo's chest. Optimus' optics narrowed, apprehension rising .

"That... that's not possible Ratchet." He stuttered incredulously, shaking his helm. It couldn't be. It just COULDN'T! "You must have done the scan wrong. Try it again."

"I did!" Ratchet hissed. "TWICE! And each time it looks the same! And that's not all either." He changed the image back to the internal scan, zooming in on Zosimo's fuel intake system. Pointing at a circled area, he gave Optimus a moment to look over the readings. The Prime stood silent, a dark look spreading over his faceplates.

"It's his fuel tank. His body is somehow underdeveloped to the point that I doubt his body would accept fresh, unprocessed energon. Look," He pressed his finger to a small dark space where normally a filter would be. "He's missing his entire filtering screen! If he were to drink regular energon his insides would burn and reject the fuel in an instant. He would purge every time he had a cube. "

Optimus shook his helm again in disbelief. "Then how does he get the energy to stay online?"

"I think you and I know there is only one other place to get processed energon other than from a medic Optimus."

"You mean he-"

"Has to drink another mech's purified energon? That's exactly what I mean." He replied darkly. "I'll bet you any credits on how he gets it."

Optimus blinked stupidly before groaning and rubbing them between his thumb and forefinger. "Primus..."

Ratchet placed his servo on the semi's shoulder, stroking soothingly for a few moments. Optimus had a feeling he hadn't heard everything the medic had to tell him. He sighed heavily. "What else Ratchet?"

The lime ambulance shuffled uncomfortably about, fingers fiddling with the image on the monitor.

"Err... I'm going to warm you this next part will definitely evoke your inner homicidal tendencies." He spoke slowly and calmly. "I need you to promise me you won't do anything rash or attack my patient, alright?"

Optimus felt dread creeping into his spark, blocking the matrix's efforts to sooth him. "Why would I do such a thing now?"

"Just please, promise you won't."

"Alright." He nodded, growing irritated. What was so sensitive that his own medic tip toed around the subject as if he were a hormonal youngling? "Alright yes, I promise. What?"

Without meeting Optimus' optics, Ratchet explained. "You and I both know that even on filtered energon his spark is outputting far too much energy to stay online. Which means something else must be supporting his spark pulse in order to prevent it from burning itself out."

He chortled, but it held no humor."No wonder he had a spark concealer on him! Any sensor could pick up his signal half way around the planet. A real pain in the aft on a battlefield if you ask me."

Optimus waved his hand quickly. "Yes, yes but what does it all mean Ratchet?"

"One, something is keeping his spark from collapsing in on itself, but it seems to have done other things to his body. Who knows what it has done to his processor."

"The only thing I can think of other than a bond would... be..." No. It was impossible, it could be. Before Optimus could recover from his dazed state, Ratchet interrupted.

"Lets... not get ahead of ourselves." He reassured. "I'm sure there is another explanation."

Optimus felt his stress levels rising, a deep pulsing headache beginning to form. It was just too much to take in at once. The Prime was beginning to understand how Prowl felt. "And two?

Ratchet rubbed the back of his neck nervously, an action he actively adopted from a certain boy who gave it almost as much as he gave a playful smile. How to break this lightly...

"Two, even with the decreased energon intake, there's only one other way I can think of to efficiently release that much excess energy in a short time period. Although I hate to say this, it would be a possible motive behind you know what."

What? A motive behind... It suddenly clicked and it took every last shred of severely wavering self-control the Prime had not to tear the ebony mech apart. Optimus turned and stormed from the room, one servo to his forehelm and the other placed rigidly on his hip. Ratchet stood in shock at his leader's sudden disappearance for a moment before moving quickly to follow. 'Huh, that went...well.'

'Wait' A nagging feeling tugged at him, dragging him to look at the previously forgotten needle sitting on the counter. Quickly injecting the fluid into the whimpering mech on his tabletop, he rushed out of the isolation room before checking to see if the sedative took effect.

Optimus paced back and forth in long, angry strides, grumbling and growling to himself in frustration. He had been prepared to believe the mech had done this to his adoptive son out of spite and now this? It bothered and fragged him off to know now he couldn't legitimately force complete blame on Zosimo. No bot could help how they were created. Everyone was different.

"Optimus, come back! I wasn't finished!" Ratchets calls fell on deaf audios, rage clouding Optimus' judgement like a thick fog.

'Wait! What am I thinking!This doesn't excuse anything! In fact, this just makes it WORSE!' Not only had the Con targeted Bumblebee but he had done so knowing what his starved mind was capable of! How DARE Megatron release such a beast into the world! Everything about this felt wrong. It felt wrong. As if Unicron himself was inhabiting the dark shell of the attractive, albeit dangerous looking Decepticon. Bumblebee would have to go through therapy for the attack on top of what he was already due after loosing Sam, all because some stuck up glitch couldn't control what was behind his codpiece!

A cool servo cautiously touched a smoke stack on his back, which was rudely shoved off with an angry warble of some rather colourful phrases in their native language. Several directing Ratchet to a few places he could stick his medical tools. Ratchet gave an exasperated groan, subconsciously retrieving his trusty wrench from his substance and made to follow his raging commander into the general medical bay. Stomping by a dazed Ironhide, he ignored the questioning expression on his mate's faceplates and strode stiffly into his medbay. If the Prime wanted to act like a stubborn youngling, by Primus he would treated like one! Commanding officer or not, reprimands be damned!

Spotting the truck-former conversing with a newly awakened Prowl, he took on a crouched stance and drew his dominant arm back. Vorns of practice on a certain pair of suicidal twins had made him a master in the art of what was affectionately dubbed 'Wrenchary'. He took aim, tilted his wrist ever so slightly and whipped his arm forward. The metal tool whirled through the air in a clean arch, whistling from its velocity as it hurled at its target.

The other Autobots in the large room winced in sympathy at the resonating clang followed by a howl of frustrated pain from the now downed twitching Prime. Prowl stared down at him, optics wide in bewilderment, his silver mate trying hard and failing to hide the wide, face-splitting grin across his face. The dead silence was broken by a frail moan, Optimus regaining control of his limbs and sitting up to rub his dented helm and twisted antenna. Using Prowl's berth as leverage he hauled himself to his pedes, stumbling when Ratchet gave him a rather harsh shove towards the medic's personal office. The other patients watched the confrontation in silence, shocked at the round of violence. Ratchet had never thrown his wrench at Optimus. Never.

The door slammed shut and Ratchet silently pointed to a large mech sized chair in front of his desks, datapads stacked neatly in organized piles across its surface. Servo gently soothing his helm Optimus took the seat and practically thew himself into it. He slumped down and folded his arms over his chest plates in a huff. In any other context, Ratchet would have been rolling on the floor in laughter at the childish sulk. Now however, it just served to aggravate him even more.

"What it Primus' name has gotten into you Orion?" He rumbled, optics narrowed. "What's wrong with you? I haven't seen you act this stupid and selfishly since-"

"DON'T!" Optimus snarled. "You go too far, medic. Me? Whats wrong with you? How is it you can't see that monster should be put down? It's been tainted by Unicron and it is my duty to deal with it. MINE, and mine alone." He took in Ratchet's tense stance, optics hinting at the medic's shock. "Its actions only prove what I say. And yet you strive to protect the pit-spawn from what it rightly deserves. You know the laws, so you know in the end it is my say on whether the creature lives or dies."

Optimus was standing now, towering over the CMO, casting a shadow over his plating. But Ratchet wouldn't back down. It was time to confront his Prime's behavior and set him straight, whether he liked it or not.

"And I'm sure you know that the laws don't apply to mechs with mental illness before the fact."

Optimus couldn't help but growl aggressively, age-old coding telling him to stand his ground and put his subordinate in his place. His armor flared and his energy field gave a hard shove on the medic's, invading his personal space. Ratchet's field answered with a submissive purr, and the CMO tilted his head down and ever slightly to the side, exposing critical cables and wires.

"Shhhh." The medic soothed. "I'm not a threat, I'm not challenging you. You're the leader just-" the medics glossa swiped quickly over his dry lips"- calm down." The Prime's growl tapered off to a light grumble. Not wanting to appear threatening, Ratchet pressed his servos lightly, cautiously to the younger mech's abdomen. Softly pushing forward he added. "Please?"

The matrix hissed angrily beside Optimus' spark, stabbing away at the Prime's natural alpha behavior. It wanted him to stop, to sit down and to shut up. Optimus didn't listen.

"Why is it that whenever I feel I need to act on my emotions you lot turn your backs on my but it's perfectly fine for Bumblebee to openly pray for Sam to return!?" Ratchet faltered, Optimus' accusing tone tone increasing to a furious roar. "Why can Sideswipe go against orders and attack Starscream in the middle of battle? Why can Jolt choose his patients when he's not comfortable dealing with one injury or another?"

He stabbed a finger firmly into the medic's chestplates, forcing him to take a step back. "What gives you the right to be with Ironhide every night when I'm not allowed to shed a single tear of pity for my son!?" Hushed whispers drifted from behind the office door but the two paid them no mind. They had both fallen silent, the larger of the two panting with emotion as his feelings finally burst out like a swell of water through a broken dam.

"Optimus-"

"Am I not a person like everyone else?" Optimus asked wearily. He slowly relaxed, stepping away. "Am I not allowed to feel? Am I not allowed freedom?" Ratchet couldn't answer, mouth opening and closing as words left him. Optimus sighed and sat back down, hands held loosely in his lap. "I'm sorry." He said softly. "I shouldn't have yelled at you. You're right." He exhaled. "There is something bigger at work here Ratchet, and as much as I know you want to give this youngling the benefit of the doubt I have to keep the humans and my men safe."

Ratchet nodded and moved to his side, rubbing his plating. "I understand Optimus, you are your own person. Maybe we haven't been treating you that way lately." He crouched beside the chair, coming to eye level with the hunched mech. He shook his helm tiredly. "It's just this accursed war. We've been on the run, outnumbered for far too long. People can forget that the emotions of others are important, myself included. Not all Decepticons are cold merciless murderers, Jazz is a symbol of that. Maybe we... could help him? Give him the care he needs. You never know, there could be more to him than what we can see on the outside. Someone who wants this war over as much as we do."

Optimus gave a dry chuckle. "I think I'm beginning to rub off on you old friend."

Ratchet sniffed. "Don't you 'old friend' me. We still need to speak to Zosimo about all this. For all we know he has no idea whats happening to him."

The both looked around as the p.a. system spurted static as it cycled to life, the automated voice of the central computer emitting from speakers. "Attention all personnel. Incoming transmission from location unknown. Affiliation, Decepticon origin. Labelled: Exchange Proposal. Security clearance, strictly Commander Optimus Prime. Requesting Commander Optimus Prime, report to Hanger Seven immediately. Hanger Seven. Thank you."

Epps leaned against the railing of the catwalk, gazing below as the communications engineers skittered about trying to locate the source of the transmission signal. The loud rumbling of several engines approached and he stood straight. Optimus along with Ratchet and Jazz in tow rolled through the open hanger doors and transformed, hastily marching towards the computer setup that was scaled to their size.

Jazz accessed their long-range communications and played the transmission through out the hanger's speakers. Soldiers balked, faces bleaching white as some recognized the eerie growling voice of a mech they thought to be long dead. Others did not recognize the voice, but instincts sent shivers of fear caused hair to stand up on end. Optimus stood rigid and tall, bewildered to the point of near spark failure.

"Hello Brother. Surprised to hear my voice it seems? I told you once I would always come back, if only to end you myself."

"Megatron..."

Jazz hissed, visor flashing as he regarded the monitor with an almost demonic look of fury. "So th'a son of a bitch comes crawling back does he?"

Frenzied hushes and prompts to 'shut up' rained down on the saboteur as Megatron's message continued.

"As much as I wish we could speak face to face, I'm afraid you might be holding a grudge. So I'll get straight to the point. You have something of mine. A mech, unique in many ways. I think you know who I speak of. I want him back. You see he is very special to me, one of a kind. So I'm willing to set up a trade. You have something I want and I have something you want. Here they are now. Say hello to your masters, little humans."

"Optimus." The weak voice of Mikaela Banes whispered. The mechs in the room snarled, plating rattling angrily. "Help, they've done something to Will. I don't know what, but he hasn't woken up. We're not going to last much longer. Please, these 'Cons are doing something to him! Hey, wait I'm not done! Optimus! Leo! Anyone help us!"

"That's quite enough fleshling. Shockwave." Yells and protests were heard in the background, Megatron speaking smugly over them. "Now you understand that we are at a bit of an impasse. If you want your humans back alive, you will arrive at the coordinates disclosed with my creation by sunset tomorrow. Failure to comply and... well I don't need to remind you what happens when I don't get what I want."

The message ended, and the monitor flashed measurements of longitude and latitude, displaying a location to the north in the wilds of British Columbia, Canada. A quiet secluded forest, where humans seldom go, and animals would be their only witness.


	11. Chapter 11

This wasn't possible. It just wasn't. Jazz kept telling himself what Jolt had delicately informed him of was a joke, something to lift the Third in Command's spirits in light of his mate's recent hospitalization. But as the music lover sat stiff, mouth hanging open, staring shocked through his bright visor at the frowning apprentice, Jazz knew this was no trick.

Zosimo was going to be let go.

Optimus had made the decision to trade with Megatron for the humans without him or Prowl there to talk him out of it. How could he! Had his Commander completely lost it? He must have a screw or two loose because there was no way Jazz would let the ebony demon get away without teaching him a lesson first. One he would be sure never to forget.

Jazz sat hunched on his stool in the now dark med bay. Humans had all gone to bed except those on the ever hated graveyard shift. Some soldiers claim to have become nocturnal with how many shifts some of them pulled late at night and early into the morning compared to the near zero missions brought to the attention of NEST in recent months. However none slept peacefully tonight, as even unconscious humans and mechs alike were disgruntled by the looming threat of a bloodthirsty Decepticon a few hangers down that had proven to contain a near nonexistent amount of self control. All slept lightly and uncomfortably.

All except Prowl.

Jazz felt a small smile quirk up his lip plates. Prowl may be the biggest stick in the mud to have ever been birthed from the Well but he could sleep through a nuclear attack and zombie apocalypse any day. Something Jazz would never pass up teasing him over. Most mechs didn't know this though, as the saboteur would rather spend his nights curled protectively around his lover's frame than on the makeshift couch in their new rec-room.

His mate lay peacefully in recharge on the berth, new door wing fluttering slightly like the fragile wings of a resting monarch butterfly as it rotated slowly back and forth. Lying on his side, Prowl's plain black and white frame wrapped in on itself, cradling Jazz's clawed right hand clasped tightly in his left, pressing it against his warm chest as if affirming to his mate that he would be alright. Jazz's smile grew and he lightly ran his thumb over Prowl's black digits. Prowl was his anchor in the world, one that if was lost, Jazz was sure he would go mad.

His optics traced the up the strong thighs, wide hips and thin waist of his mate's streamline figure. When they were alone, Prowl was a whole other mech, creative, passionate, kind and a downright animal in the berth. All the things Jazz sought for in the perfect mate, sleeping against his plating every night. When more could a mech ask for?

Oh yeah, justice. Revenge. These thoughts entered his mind as he shifted closer to inspect the rows of jagged puncture wounds along Prowl's neck cables. It looked as if a Great White Sharkticon had taken a nibble and decided it liked how he tasted. Jazz growled lightly to himself. No one could bite his mate but him! Prowl was his, and his alone. Jazz pushed down his need to dominate the sick youngling now locked back in his cell with a few calming vents. There was somethings Jazz had seen, just before the mech had what appeared to be a bipolar attack. An innocence but at the same time a longing to be somewhere other than that interrogation room. It was a position Jazz remembered clearly in his mind, engraved forever as the moment he first met his mate. But based on what he knew, the ebony mech had felt no remorse over what he had done.

If Megatron wanted his monster back he could have him, but not without some answers first.

Bumblebee lay still on his berth at the other side of the hanger on his back, pressing his own pseudo-door wings what must be painfully to the surface. Apart from his earlier freak out, he hadn't spoken a word or even regained consciousness. Ratchet remained optimistic though, saying the scout's frame was fully repaired and whatever was keeping him in forced recharge was something Bumblebee would have to pull through by himself.

The young adult didn't deserve this; he was one of the most innocent mechs Jazz knew. Up to this point the war had done little to dampen his attitude. Even in the wake of losing his vocalizer in Tyger Pax to Megaton he remained cheerful in nature, always focused on brightening everyone's day with a well placed lyric or song coupled with a goofy dance move that sent everyone into heartfelt chuckles and laughs.

How a human could change him so much Jazz didn't understand. Sure, even without personally knowing the boy too well he was a good kid, but there was more to it, Primus forgive him for saying, then met the optics. The small glint that overtook the scouts gaze when he saw Sam, the need to be physically touching or close to each other in a way that dare he say was very much alike to how Jazz acted around Prowl. Was it possible the young mech had felt something for the human boy, and...? Holy Primus was the feeling returned!?

Jazz remembered the pure outrage that had taken over the cheerful Camaro when Mikaela had come crying to the base with her new love interest, begging the Autobots not to help Sam but to protect her and Leo should the Decepticons come for them next. Bumblebee had shrieked in anger and proceeded to rip his quarters apart from the inside out.

It had taken both Optimus and Ironhide to finally subdue him and even then they were struggling to hold the smaller mech from stepping on her. Apparently there had been some crazy love triangle or something going on behind Sam's back judging by the loud curses and accusations flung in Cybertronian at the quivering humans, sounding like the frenzied roaring of engines and computer generated squeals and chirps of mindless machines.

They had since closed the large rift between them, but nobody was fooled by the fake smiles and thin laughter forced dryly out of Bumblebee's repaired vocalizer, although no one ever said anything about it. The scout reeked of depression, only to have this thrust on him. Jazz didn't think even he could hold up through that without someone like Prowl helping him along.

Optimus had been in to visit earlier, before Ratchet had lost it and dragged the Prime into his office and proceeded to start a screaming match between the two. Zosimo was then carried back to his cell block drugged off some strange serum Ratchet had been playing with and given an Autobot guard to watch over him at all times. Optimus came storming back and barricaded himself in his office claiming to need to 'cool off and leave him the frag alone.' Something was wrong, and Jazz did not know what. He didn't like not knowing.

Zosimo recharged fitfully, back pressed against the wall of his cell. Sideswipe grunted, not pitying him in the least as he tossed and turned, whimpering as if in pain. Sideswipe sighed and leaned against the wall, inspecting his digits for dirt or rocks lodged between wires. He jumped with sharp intake when suddenly Zosimo sat up rim-rod straight and panted heavily yelling out. "Bumblebee!"

"Oi!" Sideswipe tapped his sword on the wall outside the cell to get his attention. "Keep it down in there or I swear I'll muzzle you!"

Zosimo huffed, crossing his arms around his legs as he pulled them up to his chest plates. His spark thumps wildly in his chest but he refused to let his anxiety show to the world. Instead he yawned, put on his bad mech cover and slumped back. He put his arms behind his helm and crossed his pedes and adopted his alter ego's customary smirk. If you're going to play the part, may as well play it well.

"A muzzle? Hmmmm... Someone's kinky."

Sideswipe rolled his optics and scoffed. "In your dreams, Decepti-rat. In your dreams."

Zosimo chuckled." They'd be pretty sweet dreams."

"You're disgusting."

Zosimo frowned. Well, at least he's blunt; he'd give the Autobot that. He didn't know much about the silver front liner or his brother, only heard stories from the older drones and Frenzy back on base. Sideswipe was the less violent one, the prankster who had the ball bearings to tackle Ratchet the Hatchet into the ocean on New Vorn's Eve back before...

There it is again; stop thinking in the past Zosimo. You're not that person anymore. You never were him to begin with. He was just a phase. A fake. Sam never existed, at least not to him. For his entire life he remembered being the way he was now inside, he just didn't want to scare people. So he played the awkward teenage boy to his friends, his family, and girlfriend. But never his lover. With Bumblebee he didn't have to hide, he was accepted and loved for who he really was.

And he went and blew it. Bumblebee would never trust him now, would never believe him when he revealed who he was. It hurt to know this. It hurt a lot.

He heard footsteps growing closer, but they were so light and steady he almost mistook them for his tapping fingers on the floor. The secondary keypad outside of the brig hanger beeped as someone entered the code and slid the door open. Zosimo tilted his head as the little silver mech stepped up to Sideswipe, whispering something into his audios. Zosimo strained to hear, but the short passing of commands ended before he could listen in. Sideswipe nodded and with a long lingering stare walked from the brig and re-closed the door.

The saboteur scowled at him before slowly lifting a claw and punching in the cell access codes. Zosimo raised an optic ridge and dropped into a crouch where he could easily launch into either offense or defense if the silver bot tried anything. But instead of marching in and beating him to off lining, Jazz stood and watched at the entry, non-moving.

Zosimo tilted his head in a predatory like fashion, confused. His crimson optics narrowed when the motion was mimicked, and he growled as his instincts realized he was in the presence of another monster. Someone just like him, only older, more experienced and far more deadly.

"You."

"Me." Jazz replied, finally padding into the cell to crouch at eye level with the shackled mech. He looked the other over, eying faint nearly invisible scars along the insides of his wrists and the light glinting off sharp canine denta bared at him. Jazz raised his visor and looked at Zosimo optic to optic.

"What do you want traitor? Screw me over like you screwed your own when you defected to be with your pretty Prowl?"

"Don't trash talk me, 'Con." Jazz said sternly. "If ya know who I am, you know that'll do you no good. Let's talk about something else instead, m'kay?" Jazz rested on his knees, supporting himself with his servos as he leaned forward. Zosimo leaned back, growling when the mech got too close for comfort.

"Why did you come here Decepticon? You had too many weapons to be reconnaissance and yet you carried a computer virus more complex than any of us have ever seen. You found your way inside our base and had a clear shot at assassinating each and every one of us, but you gave yourself away in a rookie mistake." Jazz smiled, but Zosimo had a feeling it wasn't in a good way.

"How ironic, that Megatron would get you the same way he got me."

Zosimo's chassis shuddered as he snarled a warning. "What are you talking about? He sent me to plant that virus and leave, that's it. What, not good enough for you? Not secretive enough?"

Jazz shook his head and laughed dryly. "He's got you wrapped around his finger and you don't even know it."

"What do you-"

Jazz lunged forward and pinned the writhing stingray to the cell wall by his neck, leaning back out of clawing range. "Heh, you're a newbie aren't you? Anybot trained for this would have seen that coming but you, nah." He shook his head, indifferent to the long bloody scrapes carving his arm as he held Zosimo back. "You're not cut out for this."

He jumped back and watched as Zosimo quickly drew in air to calm his systems. He rubbed his neck and winced, glaring at the silver mech. "Don't you think I know that by now?"

Jazz stopped, interest drawing him in as the mech in front of him reminded him more and more of a certain someone he used to be. He waved his servo as if to egg Zosimo on.

Zosimo however took it as a sign of mocking, as if he was being made fun of.

"Are you bugged traitor? What do you want from me!? To tell you I'm sorry? That I didn't mean to hurt your mate, that I don't care if Prime lives or dies, that I didn't mean to feel something other than hatred for one of you Autobots!? Well I'm sorry Meister but if that's what you're looking for you may as well leave now or kill me!"

Zosimo's panting was the only noise in the cell, Jazz silent as he stared.

"You really are alone aren't you?"

Zosimo's optics widened as he looked away, unable to look at the Autobot. At his pity. He flinched when a hand pressed lightly on his shoulder and he jerked his head towards Jazz, meeting his optics. He couldn't hold back his emotions and beat himself up inside when tears started to streak down his cheeks. Jazz raised a claw to brush them away but wasn't surprised when it was batted away.

"You may not realize it," Jazz spoke quietly, as if comforting a small child. "But you don't have to follow his rule anymore than I did."

Zosimo panted, trying desperately to call upon his other self to save him from revealing too much. He hated feeling this way, it made him weak. Vulnerable.

"You don't know me, you don't know anything!" He yelled.

"I think I know you quite well actually. Reclusive, cautious and yet overly outspoken, vulgar and completely insane. But you're not really, are you. It's a shield, a cover that you show others so you don't have to show them your true self. You don't have to be that person here."

He gripped Zosimo's shoulder harder. "Frag Megatron! Stay here! Here you can be yourself. You can get the help you need. You can start over."

Zosimo lowered his head, tears streaming down and plopping on the dirty floor. His chassis shook with emotion and he couldn't hold back a strangled sob.

"I can't. No! You don't know me... you don't know!" He yelled and shoved Jazz away, causing him to fall back.

He shied away and crawled over to a corner. Jazz followed.

"I'm not cut out for a life here. I like carnage, battle danger. I like being the bad guy. It satisfies my need for energon and it satisfies his for retribution. A partnership, plain and simple."

Jazz sighed and straightened up. "Optimus get a call from your Master. I guess that means you're goin' home then. You leave tomorrow."

Jazz moved away and left the cell but not before turning back. "When Megatron drives you off, remember you can get help here. Sure nobody would like you at first, but hey, they forgave me for my sins didn't they?"

With that he turned and left, passing Sideswipe as he came back in to watch over him. He sauntered back to the med bay, not exactly having the answers he wanted but now he knew Zosimo wasn't entirely unsalvageable. It was time for a new project.

Bumblebee drifted slowly in and out of darkness, waking from his deep slumber. He moved his arm, an uncomfortable twinge in his shoulder drawing him into reality. He felt blank, empty. And yet at the same time not. He heard what Ratchet had told Jazz. That his aggressor was going back to Megatron. Somehow relief wasn't what Bumblebee felt but sadness, depression was.

Bumblebee's optics on-lined to dim morning light streaming through the ceiling windows of the med bay, almost blinding his sensitive lenses after days of black. A slow steady beep next to him told him he was still recovering, hooked up to a spark monitor. He whirred, slowly raising a heavy arm to rest against his chest. Every movement took immense effort like they were tied down to blocks of cement.

But there was no time for rest. Zosimo was leaving today, and he had to see him. Had to find out what he knew and how Sam was tied into everything that had happened. He beeped lightly, moving his head to see the other occupants of the room. Slumped in a chair next to his berth Optimus sat back with his optics off, arms crossed in a light sleep.

Bumblebee moved his hand, poking Prime's arm and drawing him from recharge. Optimus awoke immediately, lenses focused on his adopted son in both worry and happiness to see his scout awake. Optimus stretched tense cables, and clasped Bumblebee's servos, stroking it lovingly.

"Bumblebee, you're awake." He rumbled.

"Optimus..."

"Don't strain yourself, young one. You need to keep your strength." Optimus pat his arm and stood up to get Ratchet. Bumblebee tightened his grip and although it wasn't very strong it got Optimus' attention. He sat back down, optics twinkling over the rim of his mask.

"Optimus, where... Where is that mech, the one Ratchet called Zosimo? The one that attacked me."

Optimus flinched and stuttered. "W-what? Why?" He squeezed Bumblebees servo lightly. "if you're worried that you aren't safe here-"

"No." Bumblebee said. "It's-"His voice hitched in pain. It was too early to think about things like that. Way too soon.  
"I want to see him."

Optimus froze, shuttering his optics stupidly before asking steadily. "Why do you want to do that? He can't hurt you here and he's set to leave in a few hours, there's no need for you to-"

"Optimus, please. I need this. To-"He stopped, thinking on how to put it. "To know. I want to know why he did this to me. I have to if I'm ever going to figure out why this... why he means so much to me."

Optimus was shaking his helm all the while Bumblebee spoke. "You've just woken up Bumblebee; you don't know what you're asking for. Why don't you stay here while I go and get Ratchet, yes?" Without waiting for an answer Optimus stood and fled, the total awkwardness of the situation leaving him at a loss of what to say.

He knocked then opened the door to Ratchet's office, poking his helm around the corner to see him sitting idly at his desk mulling through paper work. The medic glanced up and placed his digital pen on the stainless steel surface.

"Optimus? What is it?"

"Bumblebee's awake, but I don't... I'm not sure if he's alright. He wants to see you know who. Something might be wrong with his CPU."

Ratchet nodded and rose from his chair. He opened the door to step around the tall flame painted Prime but stopped short, optics widening in shock. "Ummmm. Optimus-"He started. "Where exactly is Bee?"

Bumblebee sighed in annoyance. He may be the youngest of the Autobots but he knew what he wanted. Right? He needed this if he was ever going to accept what had happened. It may have just been the sedatives talking or maybe Primus was just fragging with him. Either way he knew what he had to do.

He pressed his servos against the berth surface, arms shaking at the stress of pushing his body up to a sitting position. One by one he swung his legs over the edge of the berth and grunted as he slid off the berth, legs wobbling when he tried to stand without leaning on the nearby bedside table.

Carefully and precisely, he lifted one pede and placed it down in front of him, almost losing his balance and falling to the ground. He could do this, one step at a time. Using the wall as support, he sluggishly padded across the med bay. He passed the isolation room and stepped out onto the sun lit asphalt tarmac. He grunted at the bright light but pushed himself away from the wall none the less. Arms held slightly out for balance he placed one pede in front of the other.

Remarkably, nobody stopped him. He didn't see anyone around but could hear the synchronized marching of soldiers and mechs to the north of the compound. They were preparing to leave and weren't taking any chances when it came to being outgunned.

Luck seemed to be on Bumblebee's side. He leaned back against the hanger in temporary use as the brig panting, catching his breath before shakily typing the numbers 2, 6, 7, 4 into the keypad. The light above the hanger door turned green signaling it's unlocking and Bumblebee pushed on the door. He staggered in and spotted Sideswipe, sitting out like a light with legs stretched out at strange angles. It seems everyone was getting as much sleep as possible for the risky operation later. Good, it made sneaking in easier.

Rounding the corner he saw the faint purple glow of an active cell's energy bars. His spark thundered in his spark chamber, wanting to escape and reach out. To what Bumblebee didn't know. He stepped heavily forward and glanced inside the cell. He stood there and stared, nonspeaking and stiff. But the silence was soon broken with the sad burgundy lubricant dampened optics.

"Bee..."


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a long time since an update 0.0 Like, a loooongggg time. Ah well, better late than never, I guess... Hope you like the chapter! Thanks for the comments and Kudos' along the way! :D

The silence of the room was absolute, thick enough to be cut cleanly by the blade of a guillotine yet which of the two was the executioner was unclear. Bumblebee’s doorwings quivered faintly, the nearly invisible motion betraying his fear. And his anger. He felt it bubbling up from the pit of his tank, a painful but empowering heat he found difficult to keep in line.

He took a slow and careful step forward, violet light casting bright highlights and dark shadows down the seams of his front. It hid the light quivering of his plating well, the purple optics of the cell’s captive never leaving his face. It may have been the heat of the moment, or just the panic in his systems at the time, but Bumblebee could have sworn his attacker’s optics had been the fiery crimson standard to the Decetpticons.

He found he didn’t really care in that moment about something as silly as colour, not with this mech slumped over a handful of meters away. Bumblebee took the opportunity to study the mech, moving up from balanced pedes, tracing the titanium chain links added recently to keep him firmly cemented to the far wall. Every inch was in iridescent black, not truly matte nor glossy, but a point in between. Sharp turns and pointed angles littered his legs, arms, sides, everywhere. It reminded the scout vaguely of a quilled mammal he had accidentally run over on the road once.

Optics slowly creeping closer to his attackers face, he was vaguely surprised to find that he felt more numb than anything else. Wasn’t he supposed to be furious? Scared? He thought he should have felt at least a small glimmer of hatred in his spark, but apart from the heat in his tanks he found himself in an odd state of unfeelingness. Blank.

If this had been Cybertron in the war’s early vorns, Zosimo could have been the poster mech for the Decepticon Cause. Dangerous angles, talons and denta of a beast, and what he remembered to be a gleam of malice in a pure red gaze. The gleam was curiously vacant now, in optics that couldn’t decide whether they wanted to be red or blue.

Zosimo sat quietly throughout the inspection, unwilling to look away but not risking the scout bolting if he were to move. Bumblebee had come looking for him, for a purpose he was unclear of but by no means unhappy about. It could be his moment, his chance.

Yes, he felt guilty for what he had done. He regretted it, not the act, but the way it was carried out. He should have waited, watched from the sidelines of battle and allowed his unique flare to catch his Bee’s interest. Instead he had rushed in like a fool, a criminal with only one thing in mind.

That didn’t mean he had forgotten the betrayal, the abandonment, the lies. Forgiveness was coming easier to him recently, but forgetfulness was not so easy. He couldn’t dare to hope that the same could be said for Bumblebee, not yet. It was too soon, too fresh.

Zosimo takes a shallow invent. “I…I know it-it’s not what you want to hear. Especially not from me. But… Bee… I can’t tell you how so-“.

“How what?” Bumblebee hissed quietly, static biting at the edges of his voice but seemed to agree with his disgust. “Sorry? You’re trying, you _dare_ , to try and _apologize_ for this? Try to use words and make it all go away?”

Zosimo let out a quiet mechanical whine, a sad noise echoing his rejection but finding he well deserved it.

“What makes you think I want _anything_ from you?”

“Well… if not to see me then why-“

“Stop.” Bumblebee demanded. “You don’t get to ask me a Primus _damned_ thing. All I want from you are answers, to hear what feeble excuses you have for what _you did to me_.” His voice curdled with loathing. ”And then I’m going to leave, and I’m never going to have to see you again. _Ever_.”

Bumblebee stepped as close as he could to the bars, mask drawing down over his face to try and maintain the courage he felt slipping away. It was the optics, they held true sorrow and regret. But murderers are not acquitted if the crime was a passionate one, and neither would this be.

“I don’t really care why you were here, what you were after in the first place. You had the option to keep going. To crawl like a turborat through those vents right on by that cover. I would never had heard you, never seen you. But you _chose_ to revel yourself, you _chose_ to jump in like a _monster_ and take something you wanted. I am not some _fucking_ object, you had no right. No fucking right!”

It was getting hard for Bee to keep his voice down, conscious that Sideswipe was beginning to stir in his recharge behind him. He didn’t have much time, ratchet or Optimus must have noticed he was gone by now. He took a deep intake and focused on what was important.

“All I want from you, _Decepticon._ ” He whispered. “Is a reason. Why?”

Zosimo seemed taken aback for a moment, ill prepared for the tide of anger rolling off his once-friend’s EM field. His claws clacked against the floor, helm twitching as he held back his attitude and actually _thought_ about what Bee wanted.

‘It’ wanted him to tell the scout to piss off, that he was just a pretty bot in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was still hungry, the Praxian, despite the extra nanites and minerals enriching his energon, had not been enough. Bee was the only one Sam was willing to fight against ‘It’ for, if for nothing more than the answers the scout was entitled to.

He tried to compose himself, make his words roll out clear and precise, but one he’d opened his mouth the words just kept coming.

“I w-was so hungry, so-so hungry. I haven’t eaten in… I can’t remember. I-I can’t remember the last time I ate.” He gave an airy humorless laugh.

”You smell so good, even now I can smell the energon I your cables. Asking me to ignore that would be like asking a crack addict to get clean. I couldn’t, I needed you. I still need you so much… I-“His voice caught. He was getting off track.

“No, no. It’s not your fault, this wasn’t your fault. This was mine. I was an idiot, Bee. I thought I could resist, thought I could forget about you but I _can’t. I can’t._ Don’t blame yourself for a _second_ , it was me. All me. I remember you, I need you, you were the only one that was ever there for me. The real me.”

Bumblebee warbled angrily, confusion rattling his processors. “I’ve never seen your pitiful chassis in my _life_ , mech. Who the Pit do you think I am? How can you speak to me like you know me, I don’t keep company with _rapists_.” While he said this Zosimo began shaking his helm vigorously in refusal.

“No no no, I remember. I know. You were there when I got my first ticket, I was scared out of my mind that dad was going to kill me. But you were there to reassure me, you told me it would be okay, and you were right. I was only grounded for a week. You were there to hold me against your chest and let me bawl my eyes out when the dog died in that movie with the zombies. You nuzzled my head when I found out about Mikaela, told me I didn’t need her and you were _right_. I didn’t need her at all, only you. Only you. You said you cared, said you loved me.”

Bumblebee stood in stunned silence, even as the rambling continued.

“You said you loved me, I didn’t know what you meant at the time. I thought you meant like a brother, until I started feeling like that too. Brothers don’t feel that way towards each other, it was deeper than that. I never told you it back… and…. And I shouldn’t torture you by saying so, Primus knows you don’t shouldn’t hear it. But I loved you too. I love you too. I couldn’t help it, even though I was flesh and you were metal, it didn’t matter. I love you, Bee” He whispered.

When he quieted he couldn’t look Bumblebee in the optics, keeping his helm low. The silence was as tense as it was in the start, but now with a growing rumble of thunder rattling from the scout’s chest.

“Who are you… who the FRAG ARE YOU? What are… who told you that? Who told you any of that?” He stalled when Zosimo’s purple optics rose to meet his, a familiar glint of hopefulness in them.

“No. Oh hell no. Impossible. That’s not possible. They, they were dreams. THEY WERE DREAMS! You’re a stranger, a psycho! How do you know about that? That was my SAM, a HUMAN, my partner! Did you torture him, get him to tell you these things!? I know you bastards took him! How do you KNOW?”

“Bee-“

“NO! I hate you, with every cable and wire in my frame I swear to it I _hate_ you! I love Sam, SAM. You are just some delusional, sick _glitch_. I don’t know you, I’ve never met you, how the Pit could I ever love you? You’re not him, never him!”

He wrapped his fists around the bars, ignoring the stinging electricity they sent through his servos as his optics blazed in fury. He refused to hold back his cries, furious tears streaming down his covered face in the wake of the stress. His helm felt light, he felt like he was going to crash.

“What did you do!?Frag what you did to _me_ , what did you do to _him_? Where is my Sam? Where are you lot keeping him? Where!?”

Bumblebee’s questions were halted by a deep horn that reverberated around the hanger’s walls. They had finally found his empty med-berth. He let out a surprised squawk and wriggled in a panic when a pair of thin silver arms wrapped tightly around his waist and pulled him away. He hissed, cussing angrily and clawing his blunt digits on the plating.

“Shhh, shhh Bumblebee! Bumblebee it’s okay, mechling. It’s going to be okay, but we gotta go. We gotta leave. Right now.” Sideswipe hushed in an urgent tone. He was slowly able to reverse his way from the cell, dragging Bumblebee along with him. There were no protests coming from Zosimo in the cell, who sat with his optics a dull burgundy and murmurs flowing freely from his lips.

“Sideswipe, no! He knows! He knows something! I know he does Sides, please! I know!” Bumblebee whined, stress from the early wakening and straining situation pushing his frame to exhaustion. He hung limp, dragging his pedes in front of him as he was reversed out of the hanger and the door locked firmly behind them.

He looked up from his hushing of Bumblebee’s whines at the call of his name. Striding towards them at a half trot-half run were Optimus and Jazz, the smaller of the two heading right by them and into the hanger while the Prime came to halt, quickly taking Bee from the frontliner and cradling him in his arms.

“Bumblebee, what were you thinking?” He asked, not at all expecting the answer he didn’t receive. He looked up worriedly to Sideswipe, annoyance flaring his plating. “Why didn’t you alert us to his location soldier?”

Sideswipe had the ball bearings to rub the back of his neck sheepishly, mumbling quietly about having lost a few night’s recharge and being exhausted beyond that from restraining Zosimo.

Optimus growled, field flaring heatedly. “Rest assured, we will be having a very long, very formal conversation about your conduct Sideswipe. Later.”

The two turned at the slide of the brig door, watching as Jazz rubbed the seams under his visor before his digits flew over the door’s number pad, resetting the password. He sent a comm. To Optimus as he stepped closer to the group.

:We need to have a long talk after dealing with Bee, Prime. That mech in there ain’t lucid enough to tell me nothin’, but I can tell yah now that letting this mech go back to the ‘Cons in this state is a mistake. Trade or no trade.:

Optimus sent back a ping of acknowledgement, then turned to Sideswipe. “I want you to go find Ironhide and Jolt, and have them stand watch over the brig. Tell Jolt to be stocked up on sedatives to be administered to the prisoner every 3 Terran hours. I don’t want that mech to be able to lift a talon, let alone cause any more trouble than he already has.”

Sideswipe nods and quickly goes off to collect the guards. Optimus stuck around, rocking on his pedes and watching his creation’s wings flutter smoothly in the light breeze. He sent Jazz a quick order to watch the brig until Ironhide and Jolt arrived, before turning and marching towards the central building where the main quarters of each mech resided. Taking a few turns and narrowly avoiding a human or two he arrived at Bumblebee’s quarters and placed him on his blanket and mattress covered berth. A secret joy for the little mech to help keep him warm at night and cushion his wings.

Bumblebee twittered sleepily, batting at Optimus’s fretting servos trying to wrap him like a mummy in sheets.

  
“Optimus-“He whined quietly. “I’m fine, I swear. I just wanted to… to have a talk with it.”

“I know what you were doing Bumblebee.” Optimus admonished calmly. “And while yes, you deserve to hear his reasons for doing what he did, there are things about that mech you do not understand. He is dangerous, even Jazz thinks the mech is out of his processor. You can’t trust a single word out of his intake, you can’t really trust your emotions right now either. You just went through something that… that no mech deserves to-“

Bumblebee whirred. “I’m tired about hearing what people do and don’t _deserve_ today Optimus, I just wanted some answers, anything. And you can’t tell me you would have willingly let me talk to him even if he were suspended in spark restraints like those at Trypticon prison. Hughh, don’t look at me like that, you know you wouldn’t, don’t deny it.”

Optimus didn’t contradict him, nodding in acceptance. “Be that as it may, that was a very careless thing you did Bee. He already got to you once, and we nearly didn’t get there in time. You could have said something to set him off, what if Sideswipe wasn’t there. He may have been restrained but I have no doubts that if he really wanted you he’d find a way to get to you.”

Optimus got up from his perch on the edge of the berth with a sigh. “I know you had worthy intentions young one, but Zosimo is being traded for the return of William and Mikaela in less than a day-“

“Wait, huh?” Bumblebee asked softly. “What happened to Will…? Mikaela?”

“They were taken by Astrotrain not long after Zosimo’s capture. William was taking her home, she was quite distraught. They were taken hostage, and Megatron has arranged a trade. Zosimo for the humans. I want that mech away from you, so I agreed to his terms.”

“What, no, Optimus there’s still so much I don’t know. The _things_ he said to me, only Sam would know those things, I’ve never told anyone. Optimus I have proof now that they took him, I just have to get the ‘con to confess and-“

“Bumblebee, you are not going back into that brig. If you think that mech has something to do with Sam’s disappearance, we will have plenty of time afterwards to deal with the new information. For now you are going to stay here, and rest. You need to gather your strength again.”

Bumblebee warbled in protest, radio finally switching on when his voice refused to respond. “I’m not some little kid!” he stated. “I’m a big kid now-I can make-my own decisions!”

Optimus shook his helm. “This is not something up for discussion, until the trade has been completed, you are confined under category one security to your quarters. I’ll come by every few hours to check on you, but you need to stay in here.”

Bumblebee’s attempts at protest were dismissed when Optimus ran his servo down the side of his helm, stroking an audial soothingly.

“I promise you youngling, this will be taken care of soon. Trust in me.”

With that the Prime moved slowly to the door, turning back for one last long look, then left Bumblebee’s quarters and locked the door behind him with his security code. Only he and Ratchet would be able to enter now.

Bumblebee waited a klik before sitting up and violently tearing the blankets from his frame. He balled them up and whipped it at the far wall with a shriek. He sat panting, then drew his knees up to his chest, burrowing his helm in his knees. He didn’t bother trying to stop the coolant that flowed freely from his optics.

 

~*--*~

 

            The steady dripping of condensation from the ceilings was both a blessing and a curse to Mikaela’s state of mind. Despite it being akin to water torture, and her throat was so dry it hurt to swallow, the repetitive noise was something she could look forward to and rely on. It didn’t stop, even when heavy metal footsteps shook the puddle the water had collected in. She sat up against the glass of her jar and readjusted her hold on Will’s head in her lap, pushing greasy and matted hair out of her face to meet Shockwave’s gaze with a blaze of her own.

            “Look what the cat dragged in, a washed out garbage can. What kind of crap are you full of this time hm?” She sneered.

            “Your defiant attitude is not logical for maintaining your continued survival, little organic. Not when your friend appears to be struggling to cool his brain temperature to minimal functionality.”

Mikaela looked down and away, petting Will’s arm as he lay shivering feverishly, panting hot air from his mouth and chest rattling with every inhale. He was getting steadily worse as time went by, running a temperature of over 104 degrees Fahrenheit. Every few minutes she would get a light static shock jump from his skin to hers, causing her to grunt.

“What have you assholes done to him? I thought there was going to be a trade, your rust bucket of a leader said-“

“I would watch your tongue, fleshling, and think before slandering Lord Megatron. On the topic of the trade, don’t fret, it’s still going to happen. We will send you back to your comrades and Zosimo will be returned to us in one piece. Whether you and the male are fully intact however, in entirely based upon your conduct.”

The scientist raised his hand and wrapped his talons firmly around the jar, lifting it from his desk and narrowly avoiding Digger’s cheery lunge for the container. He warbled mechanically in scolding to the worm, sending it off back to its kennel in a huff.

“Now then, little human, there is something I’d like to show you that I think you will find… interesting.”

He stepped out of the lab and wandered down the dimly lit hallways, taking turns and bends in a memorized order through the ship’s maze-like underbelly. They came to a set of double doors which retracted with a ping as Shockwave padded close.

The open room looked like a macabre parody of a medical bay, various tools, saws, scalpels, and parts scattered on counter tops or hanging like ornaments from mounts on the plain walls. The room was clean and sterile, the faint smell of oil and energon reaching Mikaela’s nose suggesting it had been used fairly recently.

She paned her eyes across the berths, all vacant except for one in the far right corner. The frame on the berth was limp and silent, its plating only lightly armored and the dull dark grey of naked protoform. It was thick at the chest, but lankier that heavy hitters like Ironhide. If Mikaela had to compare the frame’s build to anyone she would say it looked the most like Jolt, not tall but not short, not heavily layered but certainly not a pushover either.

However, taking a closer look she noticed its chest plates were fully bared, the chamber within empty of any life force. It was like an empty shell, a cadaver for examination.

Shockwave walked smoothly over to the frame, setting the jar carefully on the adjacent berth away from the edge, lest it fall. He unlatched the jar’s lid, keeping it steady against the side of his cannon. He reached in and carefully grasped Will, ignoring Mikaela’s yelling and pulling on his fingers. Replacing the lid and laying Will in a sort of makeshift chamber on a metal gurney beside the frame, he went about hooking up various cables to the chamber and pressing down a long string of code.

Once the sequence was complete, the chamber sealed itself and small tubes snaked their way into the space from its base. The tubes had needle-like projections on their ends and went about worming their way into the arteries and brain stem of Will’s unconscious body.

“I’m going to give you a choice, human.”

He pulled up a datapad, flicking through schematics and calculations until an image of what she assumed to be Will’s torso was presented to her. She squinted her eyes, trying to make out what she was looking at past the overwhelming white blur marring the image.

“That’s a pretty shitty x-ray, if you ask me. The image is all distorted.”

Shockwave rumbled in light amusement. “That, fleshling, is what cybertronians call a spark.”

Mikaela’s eyes widened, then she snickered sceptically. “Sure it is, and I’m the Easter Rabbit. I thought you were off your rocker before this, but this is extreme, even for you lot.”

Shockwave waved off her disbelief. “He isn’t the first human we’ve done this to, nor will he be the last. The newly turned are very… unique individuals. They have an unusually high occurrence rate of spark traits, like warping, electrical pulse manipulation, and similar advantages. Many do not survive the transition, but those who do turn out valuable assets. Your ex-mate’s contribution to our research was most helpful.”

“Sam… you keep saying stuff like that. You keep talking like I’m naïve, but I know when someone is trying to get the rise out of me. Just tell me what you want me to know, because frankly at this point I think you’re all huff and no puff.”

“Very well, if you insist on the details. I respect the need people have for knowledge. Witwicky was the first to go through the transition, his spark was the strongest of them all, thanks to the influence of the Allspark already imbedded within his fragile body. It would have killed him eventually, so really we did him a great service by giving him a new frame. He turned out to have a number of traits, but the Allspark made it hard for his mind to make a clean transition. He became somewhat of a multi-personality, always hungry. But I believe you’re aware of that already, so now it’s time for a decision on your part.”

Mikaela’s throat tightened and she closed her mouth, stomach trying to expel its contents only to realize there was nothing in it to throw up. She was scared, she wanted Leo, Bumblebee… anybody. “What do you want from me?”

Shockwave ran his claws idly up and down the chest plates of the empty frame. “Your friend’s new spark it destroying his body from the inside out, organic tissue is not meant to withstand large amounts of radiation or electrical forces for long periods of time. To put it in perspective, your friend is being hit with the equivalent of a bolt of lightning every three seconds. That spark is keeping him alive, but also destroying his tissues. So you have an ultimatum, as Lennox is currently unable to speak his will. Your first option is to leave the spark in the body and return you as you are now for the trade. You will be fine, but the spark is only capable of supporting the body for approximately 30 Terran hours. He will die a human.”

He stopped his petting and turned his single optic to Mikaela’s shivering body. “Your second option is to give me your honest _permission_ , and allow me to perform the transplant. Lennox will survive, but no longer be human. This is your only opportunity to make this choice. After this it will be the decision of Lord Megatron whether he lives or dies, and trust me when I say he does not care either way. It will be like the flip of a coin.”

Mikaela’s mind was blank, disbelieving and unable to process anything more that ‘Oh my god, this can’t be happening. This isn’t possible, it’s just not. You can’t make one thing into another, you _can’t.’_ Mikaela was no genius, but this went against the very laws of nature. Biological organisms weren’t supposed to be made into machines, weren’t meant to live much over 100 years. This would change Will’s life, he has a wife and daughter for Christ’s sake! He has a home, a career, friends, a life! What kind of ‘options’ were those, die human, or live a robot?

“Though I understand your primitive processors are struggling to understand the situation at hand human, I would appreciate an answer now. I do have other projects than just this and Lord Megatron would not be pleased if my schedule was to stray. You have five seconds, what is your choice? Option one, or Option two?”

Mikaela began hyperventilating, eyes jumping from Will’s sparking body to the frame o the berth.

“Four.”

Why her, why now? Was this some sort of punishment, for leaving Sam? She didn’t love him anymore! Sure, leading him on had been cruel, but it didn’t mean she was wrong about everything!

“Three.”

She couldn’t breathe. Annabelle would grow up without a father, lost to a sick science fair project rather than fighting for the freedom and peace he wanted for her.

“Two.”

Ironhide would be devastated, the two were brothers in arms. They had bled together, recovered wounds side by side, they had told each other secrets even their mate’s didn’t know, hard choices made that they wouldn’t understand.

“One. Last chance human.”

She hoped they would understand her choice.

“Wait.” She spoke softly. “I… I’ve made my choice.”

‘Please Will, forgive me.’


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparations are made and Will wakes up to a whole new world.

Ushering Zosimo to follow him in front of a doze heavily armed humans was probably the easiest thing Ironhide had had to do all cycle. Once Bumblebee had been manhandled from the hanger, the mech had just shut down, barely responding to words or gestures thrown his way. He’d just stared longingly at the steel walls, optics so dark he could be mistaken as recharging. Jolt had administered sedatives every three hours, as ordered, and murmured quietly to Zosimo. He’d asked if he was hurting anywhere, can you move this, did you know your optics are flashing colours, why won’t you speak? When he retreated, Jolt wrote notes on his personal datapad to be sent to Ratchet, adding them to their growing file on the dark Stingray.

 

Ironhide just grunted and shifted from pede to pede, refusing to leave guard duty in anyone else’s servos but his. Jazz came around every so often to give him and their prisoner small doses of energon, just enough to keep them going. Zosimio had tried to refuse at fisrt, and after the first few disgusting purges of half processed energon Ironhide was happy to leave him be. Jazz didn’t ask how things were going, just came in then left. Ironhide figured he’d want to spend time with his mate and get him settled in his private care room. Prowl would be released once the ‘trade’ had completed, until then he wasn’t convinced he was safe. Rightfully so, if Ratchet’s news had been anything to go by.

 

Their second in command was carrying, confirmed just that morning. Ironhide was happy for the bondmates, but it brought back the memory of the real threat Zosimo posed to others. Zosimo’s attack had drained his systems to the point that stasis lock would have prioritized Prowl’s life. Thus, ending the sparkling’s young life.

 

Ironhide didn’t agree with the ‘trade’ Optimus had ordered, he’d have preferred to offline the punk there and then. But he cared about Will’s safety more, and if the Cons had him he was willing to give up the freak for him. Jazz did not share his point of view, if he got his way the freak would be locked up, broken, then put back together piece by piece into something the spy-master could use. Optimus refused as expected, he’d never allow such a mech to reside so close to Bumblebee. Even if ‘rehabilitation’ occurred a planet away, when it came to Bumblebee Optimus took no chances.

 

Ironhide led Zosimo briskly to the medical bay, where Jolt had gone ahead and met up with Ratchet to prepare a berth and code patch. Zosimo was to be put into stasis for the journey, he couldn’t be trusted not to bring the plane down, with him in it or not.

 

“Finally!” Ratchet huffed, disinfecting his servos and prepping the connection cables he’d use to patch safely past Zosimo’s firewalls. Ironhide nudged Zosimo forward, knowing the force he’d wanted to use would earn him a wrench to the helm for ‘making more work’ for Ratchet to fix later. The black mech gave a quiet growl, which Ironhide matched with a rumble of his engine. Zosimo quieted as he sat gingerly on the berth and lay down, flinching as the restraints locked his arms and legs to the surface.

 

“So Doc, what’s the verdict? Am I going to make it, will I be bound to the berth forever, awaiting my handsome Prince Charming to rescue me from-“

 

“Would you be quiet already?” Ratchet griped. “Honest to Primus, I don’t know who’s worse, you or Jazz. No, I won’t look that up on the internet, and no I don’t care what you’re on about. Just lie there and lock your vocalizer or I’ll lock it for you. You’re no ‘guest’ here, you’re a prisoner. Act like one.” He finished.

 

Zosimo just hummed, and his sudden lack of stubbornness unnerved the medic. Ratchet huffed and gestured to Jolt to hand him a cable. He jacked the prong end into an exposed port at the base of Zosimo’s helm, quickly bypassing firewalls and anti-virus programs when he received no active fight from his patient. He’d expected Zosimo to try and lock him out of his processors, but the mech was just lying there, staring at the ceiling lights. Ratchet took a quick reading of his energy levels and sighed. Just under 38% remaining in the mech’s tanks.

 

“Jolt,” he called with a frown. “Hook him up to an energon transfusion and try to fill his tanks. I don’t like how low he’d getting. Put into stasis now he might not wake up.”

 

His apprentice rushed to obey, setting up one of the precious few bags of pre-filtered energon to flow directly into Zosimo’s systems.

 

Ratchet grunted in thanks, and force-downloaded a stasis patch into Zosimo’s processor. The dark frame went limp, vents closing as a safety measure and optics falling offline.

 

“There, now the glitch won’t wake up until we want him to.” Ratchet said. “Onto the easy stuff.”

 

Megatron had been very specific with the terms of the exchange, Zosimo had to be returned intact and fully functional, with special note made that the spark inhibitor be re-installed. Megatron was no fool, he’d known that Ratchet would find the device. So Ratchet channeled his inner fox and did as asked, though with an added bonus. Because the device was designed to shield the spark with an array of interference signals, Ratchet was able to isolate the most uncommon frequency and amplify it a hundred fold. Wheeljack would have done a better job, but at least this way should the device be activated in range of their scanners, they could pinpoint Zosimo’s location.

 

The reinstallation was simple and quickly completed, Zosimo’s frame welcoming the pseudo-organ like a long lost friend with little fuss. Ratchet made note of this, it seemed to confirm his suspicions that the device was specialized for Zosimo in a way that was clearly Shockwave’s work. This only deepened the mystery, why hadn’t this mech been profiled before? He may not have been old enough to see much of the war on the planet, but his frame maturity placed him after the Allspark’s jettison into space. With so few of their kind still alive, it made absolutely no sense at all. Unless of course Zosimo had been a naturally sparked by a carrier, which again was impossible. Mechs born by the Allspark had slightly lower spark frequencies than that of carried sparklings, a calling card Zosimo possessed.

 

Zosimo’s file was quickly becoming a slew of questions and digital sticky notes.

 

Before backing out of the young mech’s processors Ratchet downloaded a diagnostic blueprint of his inner frame, a data-pack that his self repair used as a template when injured. He scanned it quickly, humming when he noticed that even here Zosimo’s tanks were clearly underdeveloped. So it was not a case of malnutrition, his frame was intentionally disabled on the most basic of levels. A shiver went down Ratchet’s spinal struts; he doubted Zosimo knew anything about this. For now, he decided to keep it that way.

 

The spark inhibitor fully integrated and all systems in the green, Ratchet retracted the cables.

 

“Right then, we’ll leave him here under Jolt and the human’s guard so he can refuel. Optimus mentioned wanting to brief the exchange team, that includes you Hide.”

 

The two mechs left the bay, locking doors and leaving half a dozen marine divisions behind them.

 

“Hide, there is something very wrong going on here. That Decepticon… he’s dangerous, we can all see it. But it’s not just his processors that are fragged, there’s more that kid’s hiding.”

 

“I know, a mech like that, he’s not natural. Unless he’s a point-one percenter, which I _highly_ doubt he is, Shockwave’s definitely involved. There ain’t no other way a mech can be… that.”

Ratchet sent him a sidelong glance as they walked. “You’re exaggerating; you know what Jazz was like. And he hated Shockwave, even then.”

 

“They’re not the same, Ratch. That’s a whole different closet of protoforms.”

 

“What’re we talking about mechs? Whose protoforms, I promise I’ve been good.” An amused voice quips from behind the pair.

 

Ratchet jumped with a curse, then snarled. “Damn you Jazz, if the Cons don’t get me it’ll be you, I swear it.”  

 

Jazz raised his servos in surrender, a smirk on his face. “If that’s the case, you can cuff me now and throw away the key. Tell Prowler I love ‘im for me?” He barked a laugh even as Ratchet smacked him over the head.

 

The trio entered the Command Center together, Optimus and Sideswipe awaiting them conversing in quiet Common Cybertronian.  Not many could read it, but most mechs still remember how to speak their dying universal language. Still, it was better off at the moment then Seeker Cant.

 

Optimus looked up at the three, and nodded in greeting. He placed a servo on Sideswipe’s shoulder and murmurs his thanks to the swordsmech. Ratchet’s optics narrowed suspiciously, but he dismissed it.

 

“Alright let’s get this over with Optimus, the humans in my bay will be getting fidgety by now.” Ratchet scowled as he and the rest of the group took their seats at a large makeshift table made from salvaged metal.

 

“Good morning to you as well, Ratchet. Jazz, Ironhide.” Optimus rumbled amusedly. “As it stands our human allies are preparing one of their cargo planes for our use, and briefing a very small team to come with us to the exchange. Epps will be their team leader, and oversee all human involvement with this operation.”

 

Optimus crossed his hands on the tabletop. “I know the three of you would rather I keep our prisoner in custody where we can give him a trial under the Fourth Law, rest assured if Will and Mikaela were not in captivity there wouldn’t be a trade at all. Make not that from this cycle onwards, Zosimo is placed on a capture-not kill list. If he is to be punished It is I that will do so, as is my right as Bumblebee’s guardian.”

 

“You forget,” Jazz spoke up, visor gleaming. “That he attacked my mate as well. My _carrying_ mate. I don’t know if that constitutes as broken Reconciliation law, but I think that gives me a say in what happens to him, don’t you?”

 

Optimus raises a hand in placation. “And I assure you Jazz, upon his recapture in the future, you and Prowl’s wants will be greatly considered in any decisions made. Believe me, old friend, I am not protecting him from you, he deserves anything that we decide.”

 

Ratchet scowled. “I think we should wait for Smokescreen before deciding how much fault can be placed.”

 

Optimus’s optics darkened in anger, and Ratchet rushed to continue. “Orion, don’t you look at me like that! You and I both know there is something more going on with that kid. Yes, he should face punishment, but do I think he should die for this? Not until we know all the facts. Pit, I’d rather give him to Jazz for a few cycles at this point than have him killed, and you know how much I hate what he does.”

 

Jazz scoffed, but didn’t argue. He’d always known how Ratchet felt about his work, the medic never really kept it a secret.

 

“It doesn’t matter what we believe will happen in the future, we must confront the present issue. It it not up for _debate_ whether or not Zosimo will be traded, we are leaving in a few hours. Bumblebee is remaining here along with Prowl, Jolt, and the Twins. Arcee and her siblings will remain on their current assignment scouting for Decepticon activity in Asia. Once we arrive at the rendezvous location I have directed Sideswipe to patrol the area, the last thing we need is an ambush. Jazz, I would like you to accompany him.”

 

The veiled order was received with a nod, and Jazz crossed his arms against his chest.

 

“Ironhide and Ratchet will be with me making the exchange, we need to be ready if Will or Mikaela are not in as fit a state as we’ve left Zosimo. Overall, I expect that Megatron, Starscream, Astrotrain, and Shockwave will be present or nearby. However, there could always be more. I need you all to be on guard.”

 

The group murmured and hummed in agreement. Optimus glanced once more around the table, beckoning anyone who had something to say to speak. When nobody spoke he sighed and dismissed them to their pre-flight duties. One by one the others left, until only Optimus and Jazz remained seated at the table.

 

Optimus locked optics with Jazz and moved closer to his saboteur. “Jazz, I know what you want me to say, but I can’t.”

 

Jazz scowled, the tip of a fang peeking from behind his lips.  

 

“I know you’ve done some crazy things in the past Prime, but really? You’re willing to let him go for the sake of two _humans_ , whoever they may be? They’ll be dead within the century anyway, I could have Zosimo broken by then, his secrets laid out like a platter to pick from! He’s not cut out for the job now, but I can sense how much he hates his chains. He might to anything to be free from them, but I don’t _know_ that for a fact. And I won’t know unless I get him alone.”

 

Optimus stared down, considering his options. “The humans may be short lived, but we owe them the chance to-“

 

“Don’t you dare give me that scrap.” Jazz interrupted. “The kid’s too much like me, and we both know the only reason you spared _me_ is because I was worth more alive than dead. Why are you doing this, give me the real reason.”

 

The pair sat in silence for a moment, Optimus’ optics refusing to meet Jazz’s visor. The Prime then sighed deeply and rubbed a servo across his face.

 

“The Matrix. It has been acting strange for quite some time now, pulling in my chest, whispering to me in recharge. I can’t understand what is says, not past words that were never translated from Old Cybertronian. Words like ‘Primus’ and ‘Allspark’ are mentioned quite frequently, but past that the only things I recognize are formal designations. Sometimes it rambles on about nothing, other times I feel a sense of urgency, but cannot understand. Recently, Sam has been mentioned more and more often. Bumblebee has told me of dreams he has of the boy and Zosimo. His dreams are becoming my own, filtered from him through our guardian-creation bond. What he sees, I cannot believe without more evidence.”

 

Jazz settles, and raises a clawed servo to rest on Prime’s lower arm. “What does he see, Optimus?”

 

“He sees Sam and Zosimo as one and the same. He sees them do both wonderful and terrible things. I thought at first that this could all be trauma from… from his attack. But he tells me these dreams began long before Zosimo was even a blip on our radar. Jazz… I need to understand this. I don’t like what this all implies. We will complete this trade, but after that, your assignment changes. Your target is being shifted from Soundwave to Zosimo. Understood?”

 

Jazz set his lips to a determined grin, audial fins twitching with an excited, slightly sadistic nature.

 

“Understood, my Prime.” He nearly purred.

 

\-----------------------------------------------

 

Everything was so _dark_. Even as his mind slowly woke and his ears picked up the sound of beeps and quiet sobbing, everything remained pitch black.

 

Will listened to the rhythmic sound, becoming unnerved as the sound changed to become erratic, savage. The sobbing intensified, and muffled words could be heard, though thick as fog. He tried to stay calm, but as memories flowed back of intense agony, bright lights, he began to panic. He tried to inhale a deep breath to calm down, tried to open his eyes.

 

He couldn’t.

 

The panic began to overcome him, he couldn’t see, couldn’t breath. He didn’t realize he didn’t have to ‘breathe’ anymore. He stilled as what appeared to be a computer monitor flashed to life in front of his eyes. In fact, it was as if it were all around him. When he turned his head weakly, his view didn’t change. Strange letters ran in scripts across the screen, like a hard reboot after his desktop had gotten a virus.

 

“Calm yourself, open your vents you fool.” He heard a deep rumbling voice scold.

 

He choked, trying to answer with a cry of alarm. The scripts disappeared and a single line of code appeared. Though he could not read it, it flashed green when he focused on its shapes. A mechanical wail filled the air, and Will wished it would stop, it sent his head reeling. His back burned like nothing he’d ever felt.

 

“Be silent! If I must, I will not hesitate to mute you. Female, he may respond more to you, attempt to get him to online his optics.”

 

“Will! Will, please calm down. I know, I know it’s a lot! Try to look at me. Will, come on soldier, look at me!”

 

Mikaela was crouched down next to the new frame’s helm, tears streaming down her face and eyes red. She ran her hands delicately over the curves and edges of the body’s helm, knowing she has no chance of being physically capable of actually turning the head towards her.

 

Will focused in himself, relying on training he remembers from his early training days. Keep calm, you’re alive, that’s what matters. If you live, you can fight another day. He focused his energy on trying to open his eyes, and once more a lone line of code blinked a happy green. The world came into focus all at once, and Will couldn’t help but yell and shoot his hands up to cover his eyes. Now that they were open, they couldn’t close! The light, the colour, everything was too sharp, to clear. He’d always had decent vision, but not _that_ decent!

 

Mikaela had to scramble back, to avoid being knocked off the table like nothing but a pebble. She sat in shock as the mech before her shrieked, the mechanical sound rising and falling in pitch, loud enough to shake her bones.

 

“There is no time for this illogical behavior.” Shockwave growled, and he stomped over from his monitors a few dozen meters away. Mikaela watched as a snake-like cable extended from his chestplates, coming down to slither across the chest of the new frame and jack into ports she hadn’t noticed existed. He stood for a few minutes in silence as Will screamed. Mikaela moved to cover her hands over Will’s servo, whimpering as she realized both hands could wrap around a single digit.

 

Will’s cries dimmed down to pained whines and groans as he slowly quieted. The frame’s vents clicked open, hot air blown out to intake the cooler air of the laboratory. Will’s frame began to tremble, and his servos slid slowly down his faceplates. He stared blankly at the ceiling, and Mikaela called softly to him. “Will? Can…can you hear me?”

 

She didn’t get a response right away, listening to the frenzied cycling of air stabilizing to an even vent. Will’s helm sluggishly turned to face her, and she covered her mouth with a hand. Recognition flashed in the red optics staring brightly at her.

 

“Mm-MMhmm…. Mik-kaela?” Will’s voice whispered from the vocalizer of a stranger.

 

Shockwave disengaged his cabling, retracting them back into his frame. “Now that your behavior is slightly more logical, there is no time to delay.” Shockwave reached his single clawed servo towards Will’s forearm. Mikaela opened her mouth to yell, to order him away.

Her voice caught in her throat as she watched him handle Will with surprising gentleness, easing the newly turned mech into a seated position.

Shockwave turned to a nearby counter, upon which sat a glowing cube of liquid. He grabbed the cube and slid it into Will’s shaking grip. When it began to slip, he tightened his servo around Will’s and helped guide it to Will’s intake. Mikaela was in shock; she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Shockwave didn’t rush Will, allowing him to slowly drink. His audial fins rose slowly as Will’s movements became more certain, and he drew his servo away to let Will feed himself.

 

“What the hell was that?” She asked incredulously.

 

Shockwave swivelled his single optic towards her. “Clarify.” He ordered.

 

“ _That_! You’re a fucking sadistic monster, so why help him? If you’re trying to ‘support’ him, tell him oohh ‘you’re not alone, join us’ bullshit, it’s not going to work!”  She stood panting, angrier than she’d been in a long time. Shockwave didn’t reply immediately, seemingly contemplating her arguments.

 

Her eyes widened, mouth opening and closing, when she heard what she swore to be a quick scoff.

 

“You humans really have no idea do you? Why would I put forth so much time and effort, so much energy and resources, to a creation I wished to see fail? I follow logical above all else, but that does not mean I am not proud of my work. I wish to see this new-turned succeed. Would you not wish for the success of your own children?”

 

“He isn’t your _creation!_ He was a good man, a father! He had a daughter and a wife who love him, and you are proud of this?”

 

“I do not see the logic in arguing about this, your opinions are trivial. I do however find it curious how you suddenly speak in the past tense, as if he is no longer any of those things.”

 

Mikaela paused, looking down as she realized how she’d been talking about a man who was still sitting right there. She slowly looked up to Will’s new optics, flinching at the slight hurt in them.

 

Shockwave hummed, helping Will to his pedes and keeping his steady. “By my observation and collected data, you are a very vindictive human, aren’t you? Hypocritical, you could say. We know how you treated an ex-mate, it is just further support with your behavior that you are like most humans; spiteful, distrustful, greedy. You would make a decent Decepticon. Low ranked, of course, but a Decepticon none the less.”

 

Mikaela didn’t know what to say to that, what could she say? She remembered how she acted with Sam, how she’d gone behind his back. How she’d tossed him aside and expected to be taken back with open arms with nothing more than an apology. As she was carefully lifted by Will, held cupped in his servos, new tears filled her eyes. Even now, she’d paid more attention to verbally attacking their captor than making sure he was alright.

 

“H-hey, Mikalea.” Will murmured, voice wavering. “It’s okay, I-I’m okay… I think.”

 

Shockwave’s optic dimmed and he turned his helm away from the pair. When he turned back his mandibles flared. “Lord Megatron has summoned us. It is time you are returned to your allies.”

 

Will froze, intake gaping like a startled fish. “No…nonononono! No change m-me back! I can’t go like-like this!” His vocalizer skipped.

 

Shockwave gently pushed him into motion, clasping his servo tightly around Will’s arm to pull him in the direction of the lab’s exit. Will stumbled on his new feet, unable to fight against the strength. As he stumbled forward he caught a glint of motion to his left and turned his helm.

 

He let out a shaky cry that sounded like a mourning starling finding its broken nest. A full frame mirror made up a far wall, set up for optical experiments and frame inspections. On its surface, a slender, dull grey Transformer with down swept wings grimaced back. The frame was very smooth and barren, bare of any faction symbols past the glow of a pair of crimson optics.

 

Will whined shrilly, but quieted with a sharp hush from Shockwave. He was led through winding corridors and dark hallways, passing a small number of mechs. Some stared as they strode by, a pair of mechs he’d never seen before whispering in Cybertronian as they raked their optics across his wings. Will felt suddenly naked, like he should probably have thicker plating on in a base full of his enemies.

 

He flinched and instinctually rebooted his optics a few times as they entered a massive room. There were numbers and lines painted on the walls and floors that vaguely reminded him of a landing strip. Near the centre of the room, a very tall, thickly build mech with stubby wings stood stiffly. He looked up when the trio entered and sneered. Without a word the purple and grey mech shifted and folded into an alien shape, wings extending, a boarding ramp lowering to the floor.

 

Nearby a Seeker Will recognized wrung his servos nervously. Black tattoos framed his armor and a helm shaped like a beak clicked sharply. Two slightly larger winged mechs moved closer to Starscream, each tracing a servo over his wingtips. Starscream visibly relaxed and chirred, the noise placating not only the other two mechs but strangely calming Will’s nerves as well. Without thought Will voiced a quiet trill of his own, and sharply inhaled as three helms snapped in his direction. Three pairs of predatory optics followed him towards Astrotrain, not looking away even as he climbed the ramp. He curled his fingers carefully around Mikaela, shielding her from view.

 

Shockwave gestured to a concave seat against the bulkhead, which Will promptly fell into when he received a firm push. Astrotrain took the liberty of strapping him in, his frame vibrating with his chuckle as Will groaned with the pressure. Shockwave sat across from him, pulling his own straps to click into their lock. The bay door rose with the hiss of hydraulics, a loud rumble of engines drowning it out.

 

The room itself shook as the Nemesis’ smaller tower rose from the ocean, hanger door sliding up and runway extending from the door’s open mouth. A large silver mech was already circling the tower in the air, releasing sharp barks of Cybertronian. Orders to take off and adjust headings for the exchange point. The three Seekers transformed and took off first, Astrotrain needing a bit more time and runway to lift his heavier weight and passengers into the air. Megatron led the formation North-West towards the mainland, flying steadily to save energy for a possible brawl when they arrived.

 

Will was pressed back into his chair by the momentum, Mikaela holding tightly onto his digits. He sighed and offlined his optics, shivering from more than just the cold emptiness growing in his chest. He felt his wings twitch, and a distinct feeling of wrongness stabbed at his heart… his spark. He sighed and held Mikaela close, unsure of it was to keep her warm, or cradle what was left of his dwindling humanity.  


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight warnings for non-explicit torture later on in the chapter. It isn't explicit or very detailed, but it's still there and worth mentioning.  
> " Speech" 'Thoughts' :Comm communication:

With dawn came the quiet groaning of wind and thumping of boots against pavement, a small handful of platoons scattering to do a final check of the perimeter for snooping civilians or prying eyes. Crawling like ants on a log, technicians climbed over the cargo plane that would be leaving within the hour, ensuring there was no damage to the blades of propellers and triple checking weight calculations to prep the plane for the load it would carry. Its tanks were topped up just as the sun had cleared the horizon, a few scattered clouds melting together.

Epps breathed in the cool air and looked at the dark cloud appreciatively, rain would be on the way soon. Hopefully it would cool things down a bit, the smell of burnt rubber on hot asphalt was not one he or any of the others enjoyed. He turned at the low rumble the doors to the main hanger made as they opened, watching apprehensively when he saw Optimus and Ratchet followed closely by the unconscious Decepticon sitting stilly in altmode, guarded and strapped tightly in the Prime’s trailer. Optimus and Jazz split off from the small group and veered to meet Epps when he approached.

“Morning, Prime.” Epps called up to him. He flipped through the papers held to a clipboard in his right hand, giving them a final read over. “Paperwork has been filed and signed for, we’re clear and ready when you are. We’ve been told that once we get close to the U.S.-Canadian border that we’ll be escorted within three hundred miles of the coordinates you provided, but they’ll leave us from there. If this party goes south, they won’t be in the way or get caught in the middle, and the area’s so remote that we’ll have to land at the closest military base and go on wheels from there. There just isn’t anywhere to land in those mountains, not with _our_ planes anyway.” He passed the papers off to a lieutenant waiting close by after adding his signature to the last page. 

Optimus nodded and without a word walked over to Ratchet to speak quietly in Cybertronian. Epps’ eyebrows drew together, he couldn’t help but feel a little put off.

“Hey, don’t mind ‘im this mornin’ Epps.” Jazz said with a small grin, finials flicking. “He’s had a rough night, hasn’t recharged in a while an’ I think it’s startin’ to mess with him. Once this is all over with he’s goin’ straight to the berth for a few hours.”

Epps smiled with sympathy. He knew the feeling of not being able to make it sleeping through a solid eight hours. “Does he know that?” He asked with a snort.

Jazz’s grin widened and he chuckled. “Course not.”

A sharp whistle had the pair looking to the plane, watching as Zosimo was loaded into the hold with Ironhide and Sideswipe flanking either side of him. Optimus barked a few short commands to Jazz, who nodded before looking back down to the man, grin wiped from his faceplates.“Best we join the others on board, wouldn’t want to miss our date, would we?”

The two climbed the ramp, an operator pulling the lever to seal the hold behind them. Jazz moved to sit next to Ironhide who folded neatly into his altmode so his weight was distributed more evenly on his tires. Optimus and Ratchet did the same until the lightest two sat across from each other, remaining bipedal. Ratchet had made clear he still wasn’t sure how Zosimo’s metabolism countered for his lack of fuel and nobody was willing to chance the sedatives or manual stasis-lock failing to keep him offline. Jazz was more than able to knock him back out should the need arise.

The flight wasn’t long, but the silence seemed to stretch the journey out until it was uncomfortably stressed. The few human soldiers and Epps were on the flight deck, more than willing to leave the mechs to their business. Near the tail end of their flight the hull of the hold shook from the vibrations of fighter jets that had pulled up alongside the plane, guiding it northwest for another hour. The mechs locked their tires in place when the plane’s descent and landing jostled their frames.

Jazz tensed and watched close as a hawk as they gingerly unloaded Optimus’ trailer and hooked it up to the Prime. Ratchet checked their prisoner’s fuel levels and re-entered the medical code keeping him in stasis while Epps quickly debriefed his team, ordering them to follow the base’s commanding officers before he re-entered the plane to speak with the pilot. The Autobot group didn’t wait for him; they had agreed this was a Cybertronian matter, there was no need for humans to get involved. They would only slow them down and be one more thing to worry about stepping on.

The group were shown to the base’s gated exit and allowed through, pavement quickly giving way to unkempt dirt and gravel roads once they’d passed the treeline. They drove in silence, unconsciously flanking their leader with the experience that came from millennia of war. Ratchet sped up to pull himself alongside Optimus, replacing Jazz when he and Sideswipe fell back to have a private conversation over their comms. He flashed his emergency lights to get Optimus’ attention then pinged him to invite a conversation.

Optimus accepted immediately and Ratchet could hear the weariness in his voice. :I know what you’re going to say Ratchet. I don’t want to hear it, not now.:

Ratchet sighed from his vents.: I know better than to try and talk you out of this now, Optimus. Even if you did, I don’t doubt Megatron would level every tree and building in a hundred miles to get your attention. He seems to want this kid back pretty badly. I’m more concerned with the monster task moving base will be once we get back. If Red Alert were here he’d be driving up the walls at the knowledge the Decepticons know our location.:

: Indeed, he would: Optimus agreed.: We really don’t have a choice in the matter, it just isn’t safe there anymore. Once we reclaim William, perhaps he can convince his government to offer a bit more security than an abandoned airstrip and rusting hangers.: The acid is his voice was dripping.

:Even with Lennox, do you really want to give them the idea we are even more in debt to them then they already claim? The Xanthium can’t be much longer before it enters orbit, soon if their engines hold under the stress. We could… disappear for a while. Perhaps Bumblebee would appreciate a bit more freedom? He could take Mikaela with him and keep her occupied as well-:

:No.: Optimus interrupted snappishly. : Now is not the time to split the group, Ratchet.: They drove quietly for a moment, then the Prime groaned and sank slightly into his tires.

:I’m sorry, old friend. I do not mean to dictate, that’s not who we are. I just…: He trailed off.

: You’re worried, about all of us Optimus. I’m just saying you aren’t a lone pillar; we can hold you up too. We are few right now, but there’s are reason we’ve lasted this long. Don’t forget we support you as you do us, Bumblebee most of all. He looks up to you like you’re his sire, in his mind you are! But you won’t be if you keep choking him every time something goes wrong.:

Optimus began to protest but fell quiet when Ratchet whistled sharply.

:He’s a warrior too Optimus! You treating him like a sparkling after all this time is starving his confidence. What’s been done is terrible, unforgivable, but who hasn’t done unforgivable things in this war? We all have, Bee included. The last thing he wants is to be locked in his quarters to brood about it. By Primus you haven’t restricted him this much since Nyon!:

Optimus grumbled, but couldn’t deny what the medic was saying. :I maintain that Hot Rod wasn’t a good influence on him, he’s still giving me attitude that rubbed off from that youngling. I may be patient, but I’m no Ultra Magnus, Ratchet. I have other things to worry about than Bumblebee running off and getting into trouble and help can’t come. He wasn’t even safe in the middle of our damned base! I know he’s not a fool, I just don’t think it is out of the realm of possibility he will do something foolish. Take approaching our prisoner alone, a mech we have no idea the combat abilities of, a mech who assaulted he and an officer within the span of a day. He says he did it for answers, but it wouldn’t surprise me if that turned into a breakdown-fueled episode.:

Ratchet snorted. : You’re one to talk. He’s not the only one thinking with his spark and not his processor recently. :

Optimus sent a wave of disapproval through his field that was tinted with grudging acceptance. They drove slowly around a sharp corner bordered by a sheer drop, forced to go one at a time to descend the hill into a valley below them. Doing a mental check to ensure their conversation was still private and no saboteurs were eavesdropping, Ratchet asked : Jazz didn’t make it easy for you to convince him it was worth handing him over, did he?:

Optimus felt biter amusement. “:Of course he didn’t. I don’t think this will be the last time this particular Decepticon will be in my trailer Ratchet, and I don’t think that will be long coming either. Jazz is _convinced_ , despite the crimes, that this mech would make a valuable wild card. Or perhaps it’s _because_ of the crimes he’s so interested. I trust his judgement either way, but Zosimo will answer for his crimes. Jazz would act as both his punisher and his handler. If he is unable to adapt to the weight of Jazz’s world, he’ll simply suffer. I want to see him regret it, only then will I be sure he won’t do this again, lesser still to Bumblebee.: 

Ratchet sighed, but submitted. When it came to the darker sides of war, ones he was unwillingly dragged into because of his position, it was better to trust the puppeteers to know their play. The only thing he had been allowed to remain firm on was his refusal to install programs that would create the Autobot’s response to the Phase Sixer. He refused to give one mech the power to massacre millions, Decepticons or not. Even then, they’d tried forcing his hand, but that was before the monster of a mech Overlord ‘disappeared’. It was hard to remember, sometimes, that while on Earth their number were few, out there in the universe there were still thousands fighting on, unaware the war was beginning to fizzle. Unaware the Allspark, one of the war’s catalysts, was already lost. When he thought about it, Ratchet honestly believed it wasn’t a fight on principle anymore, but on necessity. Mechs just didn’t remember how to live any other way.

Ratchet pulled back, sending out his field to gauge Zosimo’s state. His levels continued to drop, systems trying to boot him up every so often. His firewalls must be working feverishly to break down the coding he’d installed.

They entered the valley quietly, slowing when the bush rustled and deer pranced across the crude road that seemed to merge with the forest in a dead end. The ground was covered in brown needles and patches of grass sprouting in the patches of sunlight breaking through the tree cover. Looking into the distance Ratchet had seen the forest thin and open to a field a forest fire years ago had cleared away. The grasses extended far up the other side of the valley, enough space for a handful of shuttles to easily land should the need have arised. Easy as well, Optimus thought bitterly, for Seekers to ambush using the mountains as cover. The sounds of their engines would echo and bounce off the walls of the valley, making it impossible to predict which direction they’d be coming. Even now, if he turned the sensitivity of his audios to maximum, he could hear a faint howl in the distance. They’d brought Astrotrain, then.

Optimus waited for Ironhide and Ratchet to transform before detaching his trailer and triggering it to unfold. Optimus transformed and turned to lock optics with Jazz, who nodded without a word and gestured for Sideswipe to follow him on foot towards the field. They split into opposite directions when they reached an outcropping of rocks that effectively hid their silver plating. They reached into their subspaces and drew out their rifles, setting up to have a shot anywhere in the open space. Jazz would give his left servo to have Bluestreak or Perceptor planet-side in that moment.

Ironhide loaded his cannons with ammunition filled with a corrosive liquid that would eat away at the internals at an entrance wound. They weren’t the most damaging rounds he could have used, but against the wings of a flier the pain would be a harsh distraction. He eyed Zosimo closely, temper short and itching to put a few rounds into his plating. He reined himself in, there would be other opportunities. Ones where Will’s life wasn’t so at risk. Ironhide felt childish, the way he sought after a being that would surely die within the century, one among billions. His position was replaceable, and the life of an additional young woman was nothing compared to the havoc this one unconscious Decepticon could bring. From a military and strategic standpoint, this was one of the stupidest things he thinks Optimus has ever agreed to. The only real value that would come of this would be tracking them back to their hideaway, and that was on the slim chance that neither Soundwave or Shockwave would detect the outgoing signal. It was giving Megatron exactly what he wanted, yet despite everything Ironhide couldn’t help but feel relieved that Lennox would soon be back in his driver’s seat. It was selfish. It was costly. It was _human._

“Wake him Ratchet. He will walk from here.” Optimus rumbled, helm optics scanning the horizon carefully.

Ratchet kneeled in the grass and dirt beside Optimus’ trailer, inserting his diagnostic cable into the medical port in Zosimo’s dashboard. He slowly eased his way through his code, avoiding dark corners and locked files to remove the coding restricting his firewalls and reboot protocols. He broke it down piece by piece, speaking through the link as he eased the Stingray out of his stasis.

“I’ll only warn you once, _don’t_ do anything stupid, kid. Your master is coming to return to us what is ours, and you’re being taken back to the dark cave you crawled out of. Once I disconnect, you’re going to roll slowly forward and transform with your servos behind your helm, alright? One wrong move and you’ll be going back in pieces.”

With his warning Ratchet drew back from Zosimo’s systems and ejected from his port, spooling his cable back into its compartment. Zosimo winced at the stinging tug but took the medic’s warning very seriously. His tanks send an urgent message to his HUD and he found moving his plating difficult. He gave himself a moment to just lie there, stamping down on the knee jerk reaction to flip over and sink his denta into Ratchet’s arm. His intakes hitched and he obediently forced his wheels to roll forward and thump off the trailer onto the ground. He shook to reactivate the small sensors in his wires and transformed, so slowly that it was actually painful to hold his components in different positions for so long. His field was held tightly to himself and for once he kept his vocalizer offline. Now was not the time to make little quips or stabs at his captor’s short patience. He raised his arms and clutched his servos behind his neck, careful not to smack his own finials. He kept his helm angled down, but glanced up to meet the Prime’s smoldering optics. They took a moment to stare, both feeling strange jolts in their sparks, one trying to draw closer and the other careening away as if burned. Zosimo winced and looked away, fangs baring slightly from his curved lip.

The quiet rumble of jet engines had since grown into a foreboding roar, and Optimus turned his back to the prisoner to lead the group towards the field. Zosimo stumbled forward with a growl when Ironhide grasped his wrists in one large servo and forced him forward. His pedes were shaky from his time in forced stasis and he stumbled once more before regaining his balance and walking with a shuffling gait. A sliver of light glinted far to the right of him and he glanced his optics over in time to catch movement in the rocks.

The group came to a stop not far from the edge of the forest, where dead trees mixed with living ones. They stared into the sky to the north, watching small twinkles quickly grow into sharp edges and engine trails. Starscream’s trine split off, landing not far on high ground to keep their own watch on the exchange. Skywarp was dangerously close to Jazz’s cover, but didn’t seem to notice his proximity to the spy. Starscream did a lap of the valley before rejoining the slowing fliers to Megatron’s right. Zosimo watched Optimus extend the blades of his arms, and grimaced as his Master transformed in the air, crashing to the earth with optics blazing. The warlord sneered at Optimus before his gaze slipped to Zosimo. He could only tense at the way his Master’s claws clenched to fists and flared his plating. Starscream landed on a nearby boulder, sending a deep crack through it as he perched with a haughty grin. Zosimo narrowed his optics at him.

‘You’re just loving this, aren’t you, you fucking pigeon’ he thought.

 He saw his mouth open but anything he might have said was drowned out by the howl of Astrotrain’s engines slowing to land.

Once they had slowed enough for him to be heard Optimus called “Megatron! We have your soldier and have repaired him to the state he arrived in! Show us the humans so I know you’ve upheld your side of our bargain!”

Ironhide released Zosimo’s wrists to replace it with the burning barrel of a cannon pressed roughly to the back of his helm. Zosimo hissed quietly but kept his servos where they were.

Megatron straightened to his full height, towering over them and standing in silence. The wind rustled the stillness of the field. Optimus rumbled and took a step forward, brandishing his blades as Ironhide pushed his cannon harder into Zosimo. Megatron sneered, fangs fully bared in a grin.

“My, aren’t we quick to assume treachery this orn Prime?” He leered, flicking a servo dismissively in Astrotrain’s direction.

It was taken as silent permission to lower his ramp, and a large red optic alongside a smaller pair glowed in the darkness. There was a clank and the sounds of a weak struggle before a sturdy but unarmoured Seeker stumbled out on shaky legs that seemed to be unsure of how they should bend. Its servos were cupped to its chest plates as if protecting its spark, its crimson optics a mix of apprehension and no small amount of distress. It twittered anxiously, then tensed in surprise as if it couldn’t imagine the sound came from its own vocalizer. Starscream shuffled on his rock, stamping down on the instincts the childlike noise arose in him. Shockwave’s servo was clamped firmly on the Seeker’s shoulder as he guided it down the ramp, catching it when it almost slipped.

Optimus’ rumble grew as his engine revved angrily. “What is _this_ Megatron? You promised me two humans, not a stranger stripped as the day he was sparked. It appears I wasn’t quick _at all_ to assume you didn’t respect the value of your word.”

The unnamed Seeker flinched and his wings pressed tightly against his back, their tips brushing the backs of his legs. His servos loosened and unfurled, exposing the small form of a human woman in his palms. Mikaela shook her head and shielded her eyes from the sudden sunlight, giving her eyes a moment to adjust. She sank back into Will’s servos but rose to her knees when she caught sight of Optimus across the field.

“Optimus!” She called as loud as she could, cupping her hands to her mouth. She lowered them and looked up to Will’s face. Her eyes grew wet at the apprehension she saw in his face. She looked back to the Autobots and felt her heart drop at the expression of confused frustration Optimus wore. She looked behind him to a mass of black plating that from this distance was hard to bring into focus. She recognized the large cannons of Ironhide’s arms, but it took a moment for her to guess as to who the other mech must be. Rage and disgust rose in her, but she settled back on Optimus. She had to reach him, tell him what the Decepticons were doing to people. She had a feeling he would find out in a moment one way or another.

“You asked for the return of the fleshlings I took from you, Prime. I never said anything about them being in the same state I took them!” He chuckled deeply, beckoning the fearful pair closer.

“What are you playing at Megatron?” Optimus demanded. “You have one human, not two.”

Mikaela had to hold on tight as Will shook. “I really wish he’d stop saying that.” Will said quietly.

“You’ve always been about the blending of our people and others, haven’t you Prime? What better way then showing them what it means to be more than organic compounds that waste away in no time at all? These _are_ your humans Prime. Did you really, _honestly_ , believe that something as powerful as the Allspark would be destroyed by the energy a single spark produced?”

Understanding dawned in Optimus’ optics before it did in Ironhide’s, but when it did the weapons master couldn’t believe it. He shook his helm in denial and yelled “You fragging liar! That’s impossible, the Allspark _is_ destroyed! We all saw it! Even if you _could_ produce a spark, there is no way that _Seeker_ was once human!”

Will’s resolve may have been strong, it had to be in his line of work, but after the day he’d had, Ironhide’s obvious hatred of Seekers was yet another blow to his faltering optimism. Megatron snarled lowly at the truck for invading what he saw to be a two-person conversation.

“Oh really? Why don’t you ask your _Prime_ if he saw it as well? Perhaps he isn’t as openly honest as you all believe him to be.”

Ironhide looked to Optimus, confident in his Prime, but wavered at the hesitation he saw.

Megatron sneered. “There. You see? He knows what I say is possible, he’s known for some time haven’t you Prime?”

Optimus didn’t answer, and instead rumbled “I demand to see proof of your claims Megatron. Then and only then will I accept the mech as the second half of your exchange.”

Megatron looked back to Shockwave, who nodded and proceeded to send a broadband message containing a video file and the data he had collected during the operation. It was accessed and watched, broken down to try and detect any tampering or alteration to falsify the video, and jolting when none was found. Ironhide’s optics widened as his processors spilled over the data. The numbers didn’t lie, neither did the wild and unrestrained field the Seeker mech emitted.

‘How.. that’s not… how could organic neurons require _that much_ energy?’

He stiffened when Optimus addressed him.

“Bring the prisoner forward, Ironhide.”

:He’s provided evidence.: He commed. :We’ll deliberate the consequences of this development later but for now we must accept the trade. Perhaps… William… can offer more information into what Shockwave is doing, but for now we need to ensure their safety with us.:

Ironhide grunted and grit his denta, but shoved Zosimo forward all the same. Megatron’s optics flickered and Shockwave’s servo came down to give a firm push to start Will walking. Zosimo did the same, keeping his servos on his neck since he knew Jazz would have him between his crosshairs the whole march. As the three drew closer to pass each other, Zosimo glanced down at Mikaela. He bared his fangs at her and growled at the hate in her eyes. She had no right to look at him like that. She’s no innocent, and she knows it too, _hypocrite_.

The closer he walked, the more Zosimo’s plating pressed tight to his frame. He didn’t meet Megatron’s optics until he stood before him, slowly raising his gaze and flinching at the fury he saw. Megatron grabbed his arm and drew him up, causing him to hiss but he dared not protest. Megatron snarled at the dominant purple he saw in his pet’s optics. He’d be sure to change that, immediately. He nearly tossed Zosimo to Shockwave, who righted his creation and traced his talons over the new dents made in his armor. The first of many that would be marring his frame soon.

“Get it onboard.” His Master ordered. Zosimo shuffled obediently up the ramp, glancing once back at the Autobots just as Will reached them and collapsed against Ratchet. A servo clutched his helm and forced his optics forward to Astrotrain’s prisoner hold.

“It would be logical to save yourself the momentary pain and damage by directing yourself to the holding cell. Lord Megatron is not pleased, you should prepare yourself for the punishment you shall receive upon our return.” Shockwave suggested.

Zosimo groaned quietly at the headache that was forming behind his optics and did as he was told. He willingly entered the cell and Astrotrain locked him in. The vibrations of the triplechanger’s hull lulled him into the only recharge he predicted he’d be getting for a while.

 

~**--**~

When he awoke, the first hinted to his location was the noise. A frenzy of hollering and catcalls that didn’t help his light-headedness. He checked his levels, just under 20% left in his tanks. A warning flashed, but he dismissed it to raise his helm and look around him. He was cuffed and chained to a post in the middle of the arena, metal biting into his cables. He hissed and tugged at his binds weakly. The crowd suddenly quieted, halting their beating fists. A shadow was cast on the floor, growing to cover Zosimo’s frame. He looked up and growled, Megatron standing high above the others on his platform smirking down at him. He watched his Lord drop down, using spiked projections from the walls to control his descent. He landed in the arena and stalked forward, talons clicking against each other. He stopped in front of Zosimo, staring down at him. Zosimo held his gaze for a moment, but broke the stare and bowed his helm in submission. His finials slicked back and plating clamped down. Megatron hummed in amusement and leaned over, servo forcing Zosimo to look at him and drawing a thin whine from the bound mech.

“Before you left, what did I tell you _specifically not to do_? What did I warn you would earn you a place in this arena in the opposite role you normally fill?” He asked dangerously.

Zosimo kept his optics looking away, and didn’t answer. He knew he’d broken protocol, more than that he’d disobeyed a direct order. He looked at the other turned-mechs, EM field rolling stubbornly at the excitement they wore. They so rarely got to see him this weak, this vulnerable. Normally it was the other way around, Zosimo standing in Megatron’s place. Both he and they knew what was coming.

A sharp jab to his side tore a screech from his vocalizer, the warlord ripping away a small handful of non-vital shards and cables. His full attention returned to his Master, but he didn’t dare bare his denta or flare his plating.

“Answer me _mechanimal,”_ he roared “What did I tell you was forbidden? Your only purpose is to _serve_ , you’re only alive because _I_ allow you to be. You may think you’re apart from the other _filth_ , that you’re a real mech, but you’re nothing more than a tool.”

Megatron circled Zosimo’s frame, stripping slabs of plating from his frame and listening to the cries they caused. The crowd roared, shouting suggestions and taunts, mocking him. Zosimo grit his denta after a trialing whine, ignoring the others. Taking his attention off his Master now would be a mistake. His vocalizer glitched for a moment and he had to reset before speaking firmly.

“I was ordered to follow my objective, to keep myself in check. I failed. I disobeyed my Lord.”

Megatron snarled and twisted one of his audio fins until it was torn from his helm. “You _failed_! You never even began to try, you continuously push the line and overstep your place _slave._ What use is a tool that doesn’t know its own function!”

Zosimo slumped, and though his spark crackled furiously at having to look weak in front of so many of the others, he didn’t feel like pushing his luck when his life could be forfeit.

“I disobeyed my Master. He will do as he wishes to this frame to ease his valid anger. A tool is meant to be used.” He raised his optics quickly and steeled himself. “Use me.”

He wasn’t sure how long he was chained to that post. Looking back, it couldn’t have been more than a few hours with the 7% fuel level he ended up with near the end. He’d lost track of the damage to his frame, of who had climbed down into the ring upon his Master’s invitation. He’d blocked it all out after a while and retreated back into his spark, as Soundwave and Frenzy had taught him to do when his urges started to get too insistent. He stopped making noises, hung there and took it. The pain trailed off slowly at first, then quickly ended soon after when the others had lost interest in his lack of reaction and returned to their duties. None of them wanted to be the next ones in Zosimo’s place should their work not get done.

 Only a few lingered after the excitement, Shockwave and Megatron among them watching from a distance. They both had the remote codes that would release the Stingray, Shockwave only allowed to disengage the locks after all observers had left the arena. Shockwave scanned the pit and spotted one small groundframe who was holding his arms and looking at Zosimo with a pity the Cyclops found curious. The little brown and green mech had orange optics, and Shockwave recognized him as one of the more recently turned humans he had performed the operation on. He’d been the youngest to receive the operation yet, he’d wanted to see how young he could go. Young humans were the easiest to mould. He sent a tentative brush against Megatron’s field and with his Lord’s attention, nodded his helm in the youngling’s direction. The pair watch the little mech approach Zosimo, not to take a turn to cause damage, but to brush his servos over the small patches of undamaged plating. His mouth opened and he said something quietly the pair couldn’t catch.

“Shockwave, what is it doing?” Megatron asked lowly, servos clasped behind his back.

“It appears it is trying to offer comfort to what he believes is a tortured comrade. Shall I remove it and return it to its post?” Shockwave asked.

Megatron watched with narrowed optics, saw the way Zosimo tilted his helm into the youngling’s servo, which was cupping his only intact finial. One might mistake it as chasing the slightest bit of pleasure or comfort he could get after so much mutilation. Megatron knew better. He was the one who’d tempered Zosimo, he knew what those small movements meant. Perhaps it was time to make an example of what would happen to those who associated with Zosimo. What better way to keep Samuel on his leash than to isolate him from all the other artificially created mechs? Megatron silently sent the signal to disengage the locks binding Zosimo to his stake, and settled to watch the outcome.

No sooner than a small beep had reached his audios did Zosimo lunge forward and force the small mech to the ground. His tanks blared angrily at him, begging him to feed. He ignored the pleas and washer fluid that had begun leaking from the mech’s optics, using the last of his energy to pin him to the ground and snarl in warning. The little mech whimpered and lay tense, vents cycling madly. His vision was foggy with fluid so he shuttered his optics and lay there quivering.

Zosimo roved over the submission in the mech’s field, growl quieting with a warning bark before he sank his denta into the exposed lines in the mech’s shoulder. The mech sobbed and drew his arms to himself, but didn’t struggle. He didn’t want to make the larger mech notice his neck or any other vital lines. Zosimo’s talons kneaded his plating to draw the energon from the puncture wounds and stop it coagulating. Zosimo purred as his energy began to rise, pleased at the lack of resistance. The little mech watched his energy levels begin to plummet and the pressure in his lines weakened. His vents struggled to keep himself from overheating, though it wasn’t long before he fell offline and fell limp to the floor. The surveillance cameras watched diligently, surely manned by drones and artificial mechs that only recently left the pit. It was a reminder, an expression of the danger they all faced and the power Megatron held over them. Zosimo was just one of many Decepticons that rarely hesitated to hurt others, regardless of faction. They’d do best to stay in line.

The haze over Zosimo’s processor began to lift, the pleasure of feeding fizzling warmly when his tanks were happily filled. He pulled away and wiped at his intake, feeling his self-repair already booting and beginning to mend the small scale damage in his internals. He looked down and whistled sharply at the unconscious mech he loomed over. Annoyance and a small flicker of guilt rose, and he glared in Megatron’s direction. His prey was _his_ choice, nobody else’s! It had been a long time since he’d last been handed a meal without tracking it down himself, and it brought back dark memories of _the room_ he didn’t want to remember. Shockwave approached his kneeling frame just as a medical drone scuttled into the ring to scan over and seal the energon-spattered mech Zosimo still straddled.

Shockwave ignored the drone and passively instructed “Lord Megatron has given you permission to seek medical attention. Rise and follow, I will be replacing your plating and internal systems before you will be transferred to the general infirmary.” Without waiting for an affirmation, Shockwave turned and headed towards the exit of the arena. He didn’t help him up, but moved slow enough that Zosimo could force himself to his feet and follow, dragging a semi-responsive leg behind him.


End file.
